Shams

Update: February 8 – She is gone.

Yesterday, our package to Shams arrived in her house and I asked her father whether she liked the flip-flops that I sent and he said she couldn’t try them because she didn’t have any energy.

These flip-flops had Frozen characters on them.. Elsa and Ana, you know.

Her father had told me that they were her favorite characters like any other girl at that age. At the age of six.

Shams has been diagnosed with cancer – neuroblastoma (4th stage) last year. You can see the fundraising page set up by her father here.  Her parents and I are from the same city in Azerbaijan. I did not come to my blog for this reason, I came here to tell it out loud that I am feeling sad and helpless.

I wanted to tell you that there is a kid fighting cancer somewhere far from you who is unable to try on her favorite flip-flops. Since morning I have been thinking what to say to her father to share his pain, to make this young family feel they are not alone or what to tell or send Shams to help her shine.

When I told my friend about Shams he told me that he is trying not to help anyone at all, or feel bad for anyone, because there are many kids fighting the same sickness in different parts of the world. But my little sister was coming up with many ideas how to help them in Baku, and when I asked her why she thought she could collect that much money, she told me she has ideas and she wants to help them. No parent deserves to watch their child go through this pain and no kid deserves this much pain. Maybe she can’t collect that much money, but at least she can’t turn her back and go. My friend is single but my sister is a parent.

I do not want to offend single friends, but it is a true saying that you understand your parents after you become a parent. So parents who are reading this post can better understand Shams’ parents and my cry for help. Please, let’s help them. Shams means “Sun” in Arabic, let us help her shine again. Every parent needs their sunshine.

David likes “You are my sunshine” song, and I asked him if he would sing it for Shams this time.  That is what he could do. Tonight we are sending this song to her.

 

Please help Shams. Help her shine again.

Can you help her?

What can you do for her?

Can you help her feel better and forget her pains for a while?

 

Traaaiiinnn…Uptraaaiiinn

I know  a lot has changed in my life since I stopped doodling in this blog, however, I am starting to share something from our new life again (at least, I will try!). I am saying “our”, because it is not just me anymore. It is me, my Georgian husband and our lovely son.

We moved to Edinburgh almost three weeks ago. There is a lot to share if I weren’t this much exhausted at the moment. But I wanted to start my blog with “traaaiiinn” and “uptraiiin”. “Train” you know, and “uptrain” is plane in our son’s vocabulary. Here in Edinburgh, life is one day going like a train and another day like an  “uptrain”.  It is constantly fast. We are hoping and trying to make it go to the right direction. I can’t say it now clearly, but I can say one thing clearly that we are enjoying very much seeing our son learn some new word and something new in this city.

Incomplete…

Exactly fifteen years ago, today I took one of my mental pictures in the balcony of our old house in Ganja. Our neighbor had entered university, it was marking one year of my father’s absence, and we were planning to move in a new house.  And it all made me think of the future of my sisters and myself. That mental picture was full of nothing but questions, the majority of which have already been answered.

Now, miles away from home, and not doing any of those traditions we used to do on this date, I remembered that mental picture. Although I have tons to do today,  I still wanted to take a moment from this crazy busy day and say something for my father.

I do not know why exactly, but this year I have started to mourn for my father’s incomplete life only. Whenever I have remembered him, I have cried inside for the things he had missed and is going to do so in life. Before I would think how my sisters and I would continue our lives without him, but now I am feeling terribly sorry for his life. He deserved to have a fulfilled life. I have started to think of his dreams and goals that would never be realized. I am sorry for them now.

Sixteen years ago today… I don’t think I will ever be able to put my thoughts into words. I just wanted to say Rest in Peace, Father. I am sorry for your life now. I am living in that mental picture now, but it is still incomplete, and it will always remain so. Yes, every step of our lives will never be complete without you. I wish you were with us during those times not for us this time, but for you, because you deserved to get old, enjoy this stupid life. You deserved to enjoy parenthood, and be proud of yourself  seeing us growing.

Everything has been, still is and will always be incomplete without you.

Update: You deserved to become a grandparent and play games with him, tell him stories and most importantly enjoy taking naps with him, as he used to do with us. I will tell him a lot of stories about you, and he will always be proud of you although he didn’t know you. 

Who cares huh?!

It is one thing being hurt, and it is a whole different thing seeing your loved one having a similar wound. It hurts too, but in a different way. Mostly, because you don’t have much to offer to heal that pain. There is nothing left except for being strong and asking the same thing from your loved one. There are moments in life you feel the pain in your left side. Don’t show that pain to anyone, they say. Well, they are wrong.

There are times when you wanna freak out, and you do freak out, and you love freaking out, because apparently, freaking out at that very awkward moment seems the only insanely sane thing to do.

Who cares huh?!

Love is Love

Taxis here are not as cheap as they are in Ruse; so I have to take bus to work and back home in Baku. My bus rides open me a variety of opportunities to observe fellow citizens of mine. Well, what I mostly see in those bus rides is negative people who are ready to kill or knock out one another with one simple punch; I understand people being cranky after tiresome and long work day, but I can’t get why they are being so aggressive in the mornings. There are so many stories I have heard, and observations I have made during my bus rides; just another book idea for my future self.

I have always liked to ask ‘Why’ questions most. In my curious mind, and also during our discussions with friends, I end up with several explanations for inexplicable behaviors we see in the streets or buses. Yet, I still believe it is all due to lack of love. And it is any sort of love; love to oneself, to life, to people etc.

People don’t love, but they pretend to do so just to show off. People don’t live for themselves, but they live for others. They don’t go after their own happiness, but they try to imitate others’. People do or don’t do so many things for others. If you ask who those others are. Those others change from loved ones to neighbors and sometimes strangers. The latter case happens quite often, and for me, it is the worst one.

I had started to write this post long long ago. It goes back to when Isa Shahmarli, an activist fighting for LGBT rights in Azerbaijan, committed suicide leaving a note behind saying we, every one of us is guilty in his death. Well, I felt ashamed myself for being a cause in somebody’s life, and sorry for his young life, dreams, and the future that was ahead of him whatever color it was.

I will tell you about my classmate at school back in Ganja. All the time he used to tell everybody “What do you care? or Mind your own business”. I used to fight with him a lot for that, because for me it was so inappropriate back then. Now, I see, in this society, you will have to tell people hundred times to mind their own business and sometimes thousand times. If only everybody minded their own business….

Now, here, there are hundreds of campaigns pro or against, the Eurovision winner, Conchita. Let him or her, whoever that person chooses to be, be and rise. Let Conchita have a beard and hair. Let that person wear, dress or I don’t know do whatever they want. If you think it spoils your upbringing style, c’mon there are worse things being advertised in the music world. And you call them normal and others abnormal. I so strongly believe there is no such thing called normal or abnormal. It is all so relative. One thing accepted as normal here can be abnormal somewhere else. We all know that.

So I wish Isa didn’t commit suicide. Or Europe didn’t feel the need to rise Conchita like a phoenix and shove into people’s faces. I really don’t know where the world is going. I don’t think I need to know at this point, because I am busy with my own life. If everybody stops checking other’s business then nobody would take their own lives, or nobody would have to show their differences in a different way to the world.

The campaign called “Love is Love” brought hundred people from all over the world to say Love is Love. Truly, love is love. My love is this way and yours is that way. What is the problem here?! It is not that difficult to accept it, just mind your own business and move on with your life.

Have you watched Fraiser?

Have you watched Frasier? There Roz leaves her ten-year job, following the emotional talk with her boss and friend Fraiser. Then she realizes it wasn’t a good idea at all. She asks Nile to help her to get back her job. He advises her jokingly to go back to the office as usual and start working. And she does.

And here I am! I missed writing. I missed dressing up my sensible and sensitive thoughts!

Sunset in my watch: Last post

Today I bought a watch-

it is what I want

it shows so many details of time-

the notion – once I used to think – doesn’t exist at all

Friday-

one of ordinary days- I think of you

yet one of those many

those that have kept a relevant place on my mind

24th…

what did it remind you of?

for me, 24th is a reminder of so many things, events and people..

9.18 p.m – shows my watch right now

what about there?

what is the time over there?

or you don’t need time at all

you must ignore time there

I miss you infinitely at unknown time, date and day

and

this time I mourn not for me who has to spend all her lifetime without you,

in need of you,

but for you who had lost all the time here

I don’t really know the reason of my doodling

maybe the whole idea was

to find a correlation

between your absence and my watch

the truth is –

my watch reminds me of your watch,

of all the affects of your absence,

of the time spent with and without you

P.S. The Sun is setting down here like my temporary happiness over the new watch…

24/May/2013

My sensitive and sensible self wanted to close up my blog with this doodling on this date. Two – year adventure is over;  a new one is on the way, I want to believe. Thanks to all of you who kept reading my scribbles.

The road not taken

 

Today I read, once more, this poem posted by a very good reader of my blog Steve Hollier (RIP)  in a comment section of the post –choosing one path means abandoning the other. While coming to the end of the path then I took and choosing a new one I thought it’d be worth to post it separately. Enjoy! And enjoy every path you take as I enjoy going through my less traveled paths.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

An old shirt and making plans

‘Always make a plan and stick to it, be it in a professional or personal life.’ Uncle, most of the time, finishes our Skype talk with this sentence. There are people who like making plans in everything all the time (my uncle is one of them).

Today, one of my shirts, a very old one took me five years back (Yeah, I am a saver, when I really like something I keep it for years.) I remembered I had bought that shirt as a birthday present for myself five years ago. Actually I had bought two, but I don’t know where the other one is now, although I still wear this one and take it with me wherever I go.

An old shirt and making a plan, huh?

Sure enough, I have my own connection between them. If you are still reading the post, one more step. While contemplating I realized when I bought that shirt I had totally different plans, in professional and personal life. There is nothing left from those plans in the current flow of my life. It is just me there at that time and here now, and my family and closest friends. The rest is gone far away as those plans are.

They didn’t work out, for good or bad,  no matter how determined I was  to stick to them since they were what I wanted at that time. Now I see a different me in a different place around different people.  I have new plans, but again I am determined to stick to these plans of mine (Sometimes, Uncle really convinces me how important making plans is.) Who knows?! Where I will be after five years, with whom and what percentage of my today’s plans will work out. So many questions. Again!

Learning while living is all we are supposed to do. Making plans, despite the fact that they might not work out, is very exciting; even the idea brings joy to the heart, and effort made to realize the plans is always worth.

While thinking about all of those plans, current plans, new people, new experiences a shy smile is searching somebody to smile at. Sending that smile to all of you who read my another not-very-clear-blog post in the end.

Stop soldier death

Last year, at one point I stopped reading Azerbaijani news. It was because almost every day there was news about soldier deaths and suicides coming from the army. When I read last, I remember clearly there were more than thirty soldiers died in the army. They all had the same reasons; for suicide- psychological problems, for death- misuse of guns.  In a book by O.Pamuk ‘Snow’’ Ka goes back to a small Turkish city where plenty of young school girls commit suicide. One of his intentions to report on the suicides of young religious girls forbidden to wear head-scarves. I think we needed somebody like him to go to the army and investigate the reason, the real reason behind the deaths and suicides. But there was not anybody and we all waited till the death of Jeyhun Gubatov, because this time they failed to say it was misuse of gun or suicide.  ( Although, in the paper sent to the mother from the officials it says the reason of his death was connected to the heart problem .)

He is one of those young kids coming from poor  and one-parent family, which is why he was sent to one of the rural regions in the army. (Like unwritten rules in my culture which is called ‘mentalitet’ there are unwritten rules in the army service too.)  In the third month of his service he was killed. Don’t you think by an Armenian in the front line. He was killed by other Azerbaijani soldiers with whom he was serving. Yes, 19-year-old Jeyhun, the only son of a mother who had to raise him all alone was beaten up  to death by his fellow soldiers in the army. That is what, finally, awaken us-Azerbaijanis.

Today, in Baku, there will be a protest, hopefully! I have never been any part of any protest. However, I want to join my fellow citizens who are protesting against soldier deaths in the army. This protest is not simply against the soldiers who killed Jeyhun or the government officials who let such kind of terrible things happen. I think we are protesting against us too. No matter how ugly it sounds, but it is true the doers of this terrible thing are Azerbaijani soldiers, so we are protesting against our friends, neighbors, brothers, partners, fellow citizens- male Azerbaijanis. We are telling them don’t beat each other! Don’t insult!! Don’t kill! You are in the army to protect one  another too not just your country.

We need to change things!

P.S. Before we all the Azerbaijanis have heard lots of stories from army: how stronger, richer, more educated, more experienced soldiers beat weaker ones. My friends know that I have a term for a group of boys in Azerbaijan, I call them ‘special guys’. They are the guys who chase girls in the streets, who say stupid words to them, thinking they are cool, in short, boys who think they are better than girls by just being a boy and have all kind of rights to insult girls they don’t  even know.  We can’t really find reasons to their ‘special’ behavior, but taking into consideration the army situation they must be those who have been beaten and insulted in the army, so that when they are back they do beat and insult their women to feed their ego, with an attempt to provide themselves with the self-confidence they never possessed. Quick note here, in Azerbaijan there are decent boys too that don’t deserve to be called ‘special guy’ at all.