a fond adieu...

Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I can write about a person taken from us way too soon. A person who stood up for justice. Tonight I can write about a son. A brother. But most of all, a friend. He was kind. He was intelligent. He was humane. He was unwavering in his cries for our rights. And they killed him.

Tonight I write about the first time I met Yameen. It was during the blogosphere days. I was in college back then and his writings always irked my curiosity. It was how I knew him for the longest time until I met him in person much later. I was meeting with some friends for a coffee and they brought their friends. I always hated when people did that, but I had to play nice. Rilwan was there too. It was the first time I met him in person as well. We discussed how we could make Maldives a better place. We even agreed we could run the country better and had a fun time assigning ministries to all of us. As much as I hated meeting all those strangers at first, I had a fun night. Looking back, I am glad I didn't bail out at the thought of strangers, for they became my friends.

And then the message yesterday more than 20 days ago. Truly, we belong to Allah and unto Him we return!

I don't know how many times I tried to write this post but stopped. How hard it is to put grief into words. How hard it is knowing I would never see him again. There are so many things on my mind I cannot simply write here.

I have always been the first to say condemning an action is not enough. That prayers aren't enough. But tonight, I'm reduced to just venting on here. But no, I am not here to mourn his death. No, sir! That would give too much satisfaction to all the cowards who try to silence his voice. I would rather celebrate his life.

Tonight I want to celebrate his witty sarcastic humor and his never-ending argument with me about British English and American English. We had our disagreements on other issues beyond the best and most complete form of English. But I always respected his principles and his logic. I respected his ability to argue on both sides of issues while remaining impartial. As a friend once told me, his was a beautiful mind. Too bad some can never see past their own dogma.

I would never forget this one incident. We were having dinner at a friend's. While the rest of us sat and rested after a delicious feast, he went to wash the dishes after eating. He was extremely nice like that. I can go on citing various anecdotes about all the things he taught me, but I want to keep those for myself. All I can say is, he changed my views about a few things. I definitely learned from him.

Tonight I want to make a confession. Hey man. I never went to see your face at your funeral. However, I was there when they buried you. I didn't want to see your lifeless body. I hope you'll forgive me for wanting to remember you as the last time we met. It is very selfish of me to remember your face so full of life and smiling. Oh and before I forget, you never called me back about our coffee. You better be ready when we meet again.

So...thank you, my friend. My brother. And fare thee well. It breaks the heart of me to know you're not here. You were one of the very few who stood up for others without a personal agenda. You may have left us, but your voice will live on through us. By silencing you, those cowards have immortalized you. I know nothing can undo the injustice of losing you. And it angers me that you'd wish nothing but a just and fair trial even for the people who ended your life. It humbles me to know you'd still not change your principles after what happened to you. You always valued human life. You were the bravest of us all. When everyone else fled the country in fear for their life, you stayed back. And they killed you for it. This country never deserved you. Right now all I have the strength for is to say I'm a better person for having known you. The world will miss you. I will miss you. I just wish we could have had you for a lot longer than this.

To bastardize J.K. Rowling; we'll remember, if the time should come when we have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, we will remember what happened to a young man who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of some bullies. We will remember Yameen Rasheed.

Be Thou at Peace.

Until we meet again. Adios...

to kill a cocking roach

Last night I returned home after a night of wandering in the concrete jungle that is our capital. Tired and sweaty from climbing all the stairs because we don't have a lift even though we live on the millionth floor of a building. Anyway, no sooner had I gone into my room and closed the door, I thought I heard a faint twitch. But the sound of my labored breathing was louder and I paid no heed. I went over to the closet to wear something more comfortable and there was the twitching again! Only this time, I heard it. The twitching continued and it was louder. I didn't need to turn around to know what it was lurking in my room. However, I did turn and there it was: all my fears in the form of cockroach! It was huge! 2 inches and on the wall beating its wing. Mocking me.

ello governer, where's joe?

Now..if you've known me, you'd know I have a phobia of cockroaches and it's not something I'm ashamed of admitting. Barely thinking, I did what any brave person would do. After all, one is only brave when one is truly afraid. I dashed out of my room! As the door closed behind me, I heard the behemoth of a cockroach, which was the size of a fist, fly onto the adjacent wall. I ran to check the supplies under the sink to check for any weapon I could use against this uninvited guest. If you've watched any horror movie, you'd know what I would find once I opened the sink cabinet: absolutely nothing. We had run out of insecticide! As luck would have it, I found a stain remover and figured it was better than nothing.

I grabbed a broom with my free hand and went to my room which has become a dungeon of doom where nothing but death awaited. Death for the cockroach..I hoped. I carefully opened the door and the cockroach was flying around the room. Flying from one wall onto the other. As if it could sense the impending battle. I tried to walk to the middle of the room to see if I could get a shot at this pesky roach, but the walls were too faraway as the stain remover had a very short range. I'm pretty sure the roach knew I couldn't kill it without getting close and kept on flying shamelessly over my head but never getting close enough for me to get a clear shot. I did what any sane person would do. I ran out of the room again.

#@!*$&% again???!!

I rechecked all the cabinets in the kitchen to see if I could have missed something. Alas. Luck was not with me this night. I slowly walked to my room and opened the door. And the cockroach, this imbecile of an insect, was on the wall. Watching my every move. It was time for Plan B. I woke up my designated roach killer, The roach killer is normally Plan A but I didn't want to wake the killer. So I made all kinds of noises and cat calls until the roach killer finally awakened. I showed the roach which was now sitting on the wall near the headboard of the bed. The roach killer looked at the cockroach and went back to sleep. Exasperated at how the killer could chose to ignore a cockroach the size of a chicken, I looked up to the heavens and the cockroach was there too! I ran out of the room again and I looked into the next room. I saw a faint light. Could it be? Hope?

I peered inside and I saw my brother in law, probably conversing with his better half on his handheld telephone via text messaging. The following conversation took place between us -

Me: Hello.

Bil: Hey bro!

Me: It's me from the other room.

Bil: What's up?

Me: I was wondering if you were free to kill a roach for me

Bil: Where's the roach killer?

Me: I must have called a thousand times.

Bil: OK Bro! Let me help you.

So together, we went back into my room and I told him the only way to kill the enemy, a giant cockroach the size of a small goat, which was dancing in my room: knock it down and drown it in stain remover. Knock and spray! We repeated. Knock and spray! I slowly backed towards the door and watched. Nervous, I watched Bil face the cockroach. Prepared to abandon ship and runaway should things take a turn for the worse.

Bil tried to hit it and missed! The cockroach was fast! He tried again. Missed again. The third time Bil changed tactic and tried to whack the roach like a baseball, because who could miss hitting a flying cockroach the size of a grown man? Alas! Bil was too slow for the cockroach evaded the attack again. But then, something the cockroach did not intend happened.

It flew into the fan and there, on the sharp blades of my KDK ceiling fan, met its doom. The blade cut the cockroach cleanly in half. I ran to the center of the room and there it was.

not so mighty now, eh??

One half of it was near the bed. I thanked Bil and bade him farewell and went to search for the other half of the roach. I walked along the wall and found the remaining half. One of its legs was moving still. How scary to be cut in half and still be alive! I took the broom and bravely swept the cockroach away. And just like that, my room was free again, all thanks to my ceiling fan and my brave Bil.

Please go to Sun Front (majeedhee magu) and buy a fan if you're afraid of cockroaches like me and want to do all you can to defend against cockroaches. I have the larger model. Costs around 900 Rufiyaa. You can thank me by passing this message.

Until next time. Adios...

things i learned going through the education system in the maldives

According to Nelson Mandela, education is the greatest weapon with which to change the world. So now that I have gone through some stages of education, I want to take the time to pause and reflect on how well I have been prepared to become the stallion that mounts the world. For all intent and purposes, I'll be focusing on my time going through the education system in the Maldives.

okay..maybe I'm not a stallion yet

1. Fear of being wrong

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that we go to school to do something I would like to call learn. So there I was. It was the first week of grade 1 and we were going through a lesson. We were doing a mini reading comprehension and the teacher asked the class what the girl in the passage we were reading about wrote in her note book. I already read the lesson the night before so I thought I knew the answer. My hand shot up and I told the teacher what I thought was the correct answer. Apparently it wasn't. The teacher got angry at me and scolded me: "Why are you lying?!!!" I was young but I knew it was a genuine mistake and the fact that she chose to tell me I was lying rather than my answer was wrong bordered on insanity. This wasn't a one time incident but in short, it's fair to say the whole education system is build on right answers vs wrong answers. It wasn't until I started grade 9 physics that I learned from my tuition teacher that right or wrong answers didn't matter as much as using the correct methodology.

2. Discrimination

I was in grade 4. We had a girl in our class who had very dark skin, and because we were all brought up in society to be generous assholes when it came to skin color, we avoided her. I'm not saying we were taught that being dark was bad. We were taught that being fair was beautiful and into our young and innocent minds, it translated as: dark = yucky. The teacher didn't help either. If one of us boys were being too loud in the class, we had to sit down next to her. Needless to say that I spent a good amount of the academic year seated next to her as punishment and I hated the girl for that. Furthermore, discrimination wasn't just limited to skin color. If we had a kid from a rich family or a noble (read: beyfulhu) family, they get special treatment from the teacher and this irresponsible behavior from teachers and the school staff was very much out in the open.

3. Looking after yourself

When I was in grade 5 I had my first foreign teacher and boy was he scary! He was rather unorthodox compared to the teachers I had before. For example, he was the only teacher I met who punished a student and then later took them aside to ask them how they were doing. He had one interesting pet peeve. We went to school in the morning and all the desks and chairs were always dusty as hell. Not to mention the students from the afternoon session rearranged the desks everyday to their teacher's preference. Hence, every morning at 6, four of us had to go to clean the classroom and rearrange the desks. We did that for the whole year. It was an interesting and a completely new experience to clean the classroom because we were used to our classrooms being cleaned and arranged by the time we already came to class.

4. You feel like you're studying for the sake of studying

The biggest complain I had during my secondary education was studying things that I felt were useless in the real world. Especially when studying mathematics. I remember one day, my math teacher was teaching us matrices and I asked what a matrix was used for. What did the teacher say? "You'll learn it later." And this was the answer I got every time I asked any teacher about the purpose of a certain lesson. One time, in a calculus class, we challenged the teacher why using imaginary numbers worked. This time the teacher gave even a better answer than my previous teachers. "Sometimes you'll have to trust me and believe things because I said so." Yup! We weren't taught to think. We were indoctrinated to do things just because we were told to do so. However, I did manage to find out the use of matrices when I took 3D graphics in college. (TL; DR: Computers used matrices to do computations on its graphics cards.) I still can't believe why my math teacher couldn't tell me that.

ahem....I also learned where babies came from :-)

5. Unfair punishment/treatment

If you're reading this I'll assume you've gone to some form of school and have been punished. The thing about getting punished in my experience is that it's never fair. How unfair? This one time I was in class when someone threw an egg on to the ceiling. The egg came from outside and I was busy talking to a friend when it happened. Being the good Samaritans that we were, we went to the school office and reported it. Next thing we know, we had to return to school office after school and the two deputy/assistant principals at the time "Nafa" Naseem and "Gahaa" Saeed made us kneel down on the ground and write what happened. I told a nearby supervisor that we were the people who reported what happened. Then Mr. Naseem, who everyone at school hated for being a glorious stinky piece of shit-filled asshole, told us that he wants to show us who's boss, and that's saying it very eloquently (miadhu beynumee kaleymennah hey aruvaalan). Another incident that I'll never forget is from when I was in grade 1. We had a kid who was considered a little crazy (See? we discriminated even then. Looking back I'm sure the kid was normal cos he grew up to be a fine intelligent man) and one day he was chasing this girl with a broom. Everyone in the class were assigned to groups and I was the group leader to which she belonged. I don't know what I was thinking but I tried to stop the kid and somehow we ended up sandwiching the girl between us and she got hit with the broom. Needless to say she started crying and Lo and behold! A supervisor showed up. He asked the class what happened and everyone pointed at me. I explained what happened down to every detail and the supervisor scolded me and I'm pretty sure he made me stand still at my desk. One silver lining from this whole thing: I learned at a younger age that life wasn't going to be fair to me and I managed to learn to live around the system.

punish me if you must. cos I can take it.

6. Always carry a pen with you if meeting someone important

I just finished grade 10 and I went back to get recommendation from the school principal to get into grade 11. I was in the principal's office to get the report from him and he showed me that there was a portion on the form where I forgot to fill. I asked him to borrow a pen and he said, "No". I was startled and not sure I heard him correctly, I asked him if he wasn't going to lend me a pen. He said he wouldn't and he said it with a smile. I muttered a curse under my breath and went to find a pen from elsewhere. I later met with a classmate and shared what happened at the principal's office. My classmate laughed and told me that he had the same experience and that the principal told him that he should always carry a pen when going to meetings. In the spirit of full disclosure, I didn't fully learn this lesson until I finished college.

7. I only started learning when I began to enjoy studying

Now in grade 11 and till then, English was my weakest subject. I even straight up failed English in my O Level exams. Anyway, I had this wonderful teacher in Grade 11. She made us write what we wanted and let us enjoy the process. She told us what we were doing wrong while doing exercises and the best part of it all: she didn't throw a fit when we got a little late to class or if we missed a class. She did get angry and scolded us but she didn't kick us out of the class as per school regulations in case we were late. I must say I learned more about English (and teaching) from her than from my 10 years of education up to that point. In addition, she gave me confidence that I can do well in English. In short, it was a blast!

So there you have it. If you're an educator you may not agree with everything I said. I don't blame you. I'm still grateful to all my teachers and I can't thank them enough because they did, whether I like it or not, make me who I am today.

Until next time. Adios...

a fond adieu...

I don't normally write posts for others. I don't even dedicate posts to others. Why? Because it is my blog. However, today's post is dedicated to a very special lady. She has been with me throughout the majority of my existence. She is the one woman who made me cry before I saw her. The one woman who has, thus far, spanked me. And the only person, I know, who used chili as a motivator. And this is the story of how I met her...

I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was 4 years old and free as a bird can be. My mom entered the room. Beaming at me as if she had gotten me a gift. Just like any other kid, my gift-senses started tingling and I ran to my mom to hear the good news, or more importantly, to get the booty she got for me. However, she had other plans. No booty was to be had by me. On the contrary, the seemingly 'good' news she had for me was that (as it's in our culture when we start going to kindergarten) she got me into a class, rather a house, that taught Quran. My reaction? I started crying. Crying as if the world has ended. I felt the horizon close in on me. I can proudly say I didn't throw much tantrums as a kid, but on that day, a tantrum I threw. And it was one hell of a kind! I threw things at my mom. I sat on the floor and stomped my feet. I cried big fat tears. Not the crocodile tears, but frickin huge Oh-God-what-did-I-ever-do-to-deserve-this tears! My mom, as calm as a praying mantis on acid, just laid down on the floor beside me and stayed silent through the ordeal.

Of course, I lost the war and ended up going to the house. And God, did she scare me! It felt like a jail to me. I take it back. A jail would be better. She kept a stick on one side and one mean looking chili on the other side. I am not talking about a plain chili. No. It was the Mother of all chilies. It was the unholy offspring of Satan, himself. It was huge, red, and mean! Anyway, she never used it on anyone, but it was scary as hell. But the stick, she did use. And use it on me she did. I didn't study the lesson for that day and she spanked me. I think I got about 10 hits. It did not hurt but the humiliation was unrelenting. It did, however, teach me to study my lesson. And she held the record as the only female to have hit me for more than 18 years until my classmate from college punched me for calling her a lesbian.

Soon, I got used to the whole thing and I grew up to be her favorite student. I made great friends and going to the class soon became my favorite part of the day! Even long after I 'graduated' from the class, I visit from time to time to see her and she would get all mushy touchy dovey with me. I will never forget the way her face lit up every time I went to visit her. She would always greet with my a motherly smile and pat my back as if I were her own. She would hold my hand and never let go as she barraged me with questions. About studies, about job, and about life. I remember our last meeting. It was the ninth of November 2012, some 20 odd years after our first encounter. She had been so sick lately that she could barely recognize me. Once I told her I was her favorite student, she smiled at me. She showed me in and we went and I sat down beside her. Once again, I faced the inquirous blitzkrieg (by now I have learned to answer those questions short and sweet). She asked about my job and told me what little stories she remembered from when I was a student. The best part was that whenever one of her children, grandchildren, or even someone else came, she would introduce me and say that I was her student. She showed me off as a trophy. When it was turn to bid her goodbye, she held my hand, looked me in the eyes and her eyes full of tears and yet smiling, she says, 'Do come again.' And it struck me; she never said a proper goodbye. There were no farewells with her, no goodbyes. Just a promise, a plea to see her again.

And then the phone call last night. She had passed away. Truly, we belong to Allah and unto Him we return!

I write this post, not to mourn her passing away, but to celebrate her life. So here is to a lady, who has dedicated her life to educate others. A lady who gave back to the world more than the world cared to give her. I hope that, one day, I can become even half the person you are. To bastardize George Bernard Shaw's quote, life was no 'brief candle' to you, and you burned the splendid torch that is your life, as bright as you could, before you handed it on to future generations.  Here is to a great mentor and a great educator. AND A FUCKING AWESOME HUMAN BEING!!!  I will never forget what you taught me and I will always treasure your words and your wisdom. It was a pleasure being your student and an even more pleasure knowing you as a person, away from your stick and chili. I am a better person for having known you. The world will miss you. I will miss you. Your memories and your words will live forever in my heart and I shall remember you in this world and the next.

The following words are from the West Point Alma Mater and it is the least I could do to honor you...

And when our work is done,
Our course on Earth is run,
May it be said, 'Well Done;
Be Thou At Peace.'

Until we meet again. Adios...

something useful

Word on Majeedhee Magu is that I have been blogging for quite sometime, and when I look back, I see that my posts have always had a hint of cynicism. So I asked myself while crossing the equator on a plane that had no snakes: why not write something useful for a change? Hence, here I am; with my not so trusted laptop on my desk and typing up from the pages of time, some lessons in life that I hold near and dear to my heart.

calm as a monk on morphine - mr. miyagi is the grand sensei of all lessons

1. Never throw away the cup you used for alms

We all go through that phase where we have to watch what adults watch...except porn. It was during one of these musings at a Dhivehi 'movie' when the lead actor's mom, girlfriend, and his best friend dupes him. And the best part is...wait-for-it...the best friend shags our dark knight's  girlfriend. So not to be outdone, our heart-broken hero tells his two-timing lass that he still kept the cup he used for alms as a kid. Call me stupid but I have taken these words to heart even as a kid as clueless as a blind man on a dark night. I told myself that no matter what heights I reach, both figurative and literal, I would never forget where I came from.

2. Prayers will never make you late

When I grew up I was very much closer to my mom as compared to my dad and hence, she bossed me around quite often when it came to simple things. Then again, men were created to being bossed around by women through out their lives. Going back to the subject at hand, I was preparing to go to school and as luck would have it, I had to poop. I am not talking about the 'oh I think I might have to poop but I am not sure' poop. No. This was the 'if I don't poop in the next fraction of a second, I would poop my bowels out on the floor' poop. So after I did that which must not be named, I had a few minutes left to go to school and I still had not prayed. I told my mom that there wasn't enough time to pray and make it to school in time and she said, "You'll never get late because of a prayer." I proceeded to pray and I made it to school on time. Since then, I have tried to never skip a prayer because I might get late to a place.

3. Don't wish to be someone else

I would like to start off with a quote from one of my favorite authors, George R. R. Martin. "Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you." No. I did not go into any battles aside from the occasional skirmish against the demonic behemoths known as cockroaches. Anyways, wishing to be someone else...When I was going through college, I had to study history and it was a subject I hated with a passion. I failed the first few tests and there was no silver lining whatsoever on the dark cloud that was history. My roommate on the other hand was having a blast with history. He breezed through every exam as if it was a marshmallow. I was wishing I was him throughout the whole ordeal. Enter sophomore year and physics. I am not the sharpest, but physics, for me, is actually fun. I soared over the physics exams as free as a Nazgul when most of my classmates struggled with it. Then on one fine day someone told me that he wished he could do physics as easily as me. And I learned about being true to myself.

4. Trust your children

I said children because I learned this lesson from a mom-son perspective. Unlike the aforementioned point about my innocence and being clueless, this happened during the not-so innocent times of my life. I was thirteen and one of my neighbors started a rumor that I tore all my test papers after I got back the results. Needless to say, I was more surprised than offended. But I had to watch out for any possible backlash from my parents. Come that night. My mom called me aside and asked me if what was said about me was true. I said I never did that. That was all I said and my mom believed me. I was surprised. Actually surprised is an understatement. I was shocked. It was my word against the word of a grown up man! She later told me that she trusts her kids first and others second when it comes to such issues and told me to remember it always. Now that I am somewhat grown up, I use it when it comes to dealing with my minions. Trust, it seems, builds more bridges than steel or gold.

5. Your weakness may one day become your strength

When I grew up, there was one thing I hated with as much passion as earth shattering multiple orgasms: writing. Specially in English. I did it with good reason too. I couldn't write if my life depended on it. Writing an essay was the most gruesome of tasks that could befall me. But today I can say I can write a coherent document without much trouble, and have become somewhat... okay okay...I have become a ruthless grammar Nazi. You might wonder where I am going with all this blabber about not being able to write and all. When I studied, English and Dhivehi were my weakest subjects.

So there you have it. Some lessons I have learned in my life. My only hope is that it's something useful. Until next time. Adios.

food for thought turns three

Yeah yeah it's been a while since I posted anything. Let us skip the whole shebang, shall we?

Now that we have the formalities out of the way, I would like to point out that it has been 3 years since my first post. Food for thought turns three today!

happy birthday to you,

happy birthday to you,

happy birthday dear food for thought,

happy birthday to you.

Guess it has been sometime huh? A lot has happened in the last three years; for better or for worse. Regimes have ended over the world, new people have been born to replace the dead and yet, life goes on. So here I am to thank thee, my fellow readers, and especially those who comment (some with a lot of nagging ^_^ from me).

I never intended to blog per se, but I took up blogging upon insistence by my good childhood friend and the hero of some my posts. He is the unimaginable, the unthinkable, the ever-shining, the evergreen, the never-ending-source-of-awesomeness! Ladies and gentlemen I present to you the dark knight that rises in his pants... Iya!

Okay. That's enough applause for him.

Coming back to topic at hand, the birthday of my blog, I gotta ask: Why are we here on Earth? What is the meaning of life? Do aliens exist? Is time travel possible? Well, I have no freaking clue! Though I still maintain my claim that cockroaches are aliens. Other than that, I am as clueless as a deaf bat on a sunny day.

I guess it would behoove me to write a few things about the ongoing coup/liberation/revolution in our all natural paradise. Here are a few things I want to say, and in Chinese: Yu Dum Fuk!

Aaaah. That felt good. I leave you with a small token of my appreciation to everyone for sticking with me like a fly stuck to the wind-shield of a speeding car, and to all those that have come, and gone, and comeback again like a raging boomerang. You know who you are. Until next time. Adios...