love letter to my parents

something has come between me and the world that I knew
what I thought would last is falling apart in the face of something new
how can I explain that I had no choice?

The Spice Of Life
Everything But The Girl

(Find song in the player on the right)

I am seized suddenly with an uptightness, a grave insecurity. I tense up, my face looks sterner, and I can't think easily anymore. I am not relaxed, I can hardly follow jokes, let alone make ones. My brain goes into some kind of analytic over-drive. It happens because I pick signals. Signals of rejection. These perceived signals do not come only from women, they come from men, friends, colleagues, acquaintances. I walk into a room, relaxed and looking forward to the activity, and then an acquaintance tells me something by way of making conversation and suddenly I feel I have been left out. I feel I am not part of the A-group. I am being side-lined. Alliances are forming and I am not being sought. It kills me. My brain goes into overdrive. I begin to hate the person who told me what he told me. I hate them all. I can't stand the company I am with anymore. In an ideal world, I would walk away right then and there. But I have committed to the activity and walking out would look dreadfully unprofessional. Besides, I would rather not give away the fact that I have been slighted. Something tells me that perhaps I was being deliberately slighted. That the acquaintance who shared the "news" was in fact trying to tell me, subtly, that I have been left out. I struggle to regain composure: in between my forced smiles and join-ins are grim expressions and long-range, blank stares. It takes me a full hour or more, to get out of it. Even when I do, it is temporary, and I dread walking out to the road on my own. I hate how I will deal with it, how I will rationalise it and justify it, how I will tell myself to chill and not take things so personally, how I will water it down and recast the whole thing as an over-reaction by me.

It strikes me that I would make a terrible husband. Easily slighted. Taking to deep turmoil and sulks. Difficult to make happy. Unpredictable. Uneven in mood. My good moods would not be trusted.

I rarely feel like that when I am around my parents. They give me wealth. When I am around them, everything else that happens in the world is external, it can't touch me. Whatever happens is either an added benefit, a bonus, or an unfortunate inconvenience, whatever it is, it falls on top of that comfortable base of personal security that they provide. When I am around them, only they can hurt me and get underneath that deep security blanket. When I sulk because of something external, my dad can brush it off my mind with one of his warm, sympathetic chats, my mother can set me free and rest my tired mind with "just do [this] for me, your mother, do you promise?" And I promise. And I do. And it's gone.

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Watching old video clips with family

Everyone expressed surprise at the three-year old kid. How differently my nephew looks and talks today! My sister commented on her son: "He was lovely with that round face, I wish he'd eat more". We started remembering the boy's catch-phrases and idiosyncratic pronunciations from April 2004. He'd say a word on tape the funny way he used to, and everyone would remember.

The camera panned to my sister's husband (the boy's father) and it was obvious: he had aged. Back then, he looked a guy in his twenties. Now he has a rash of white hair and looks 'thirties'.

My sisters were surprised at how much weight they carried around back then. My parents had lost weight too, but we all took it well. In their old age, they have to lose weight.

Then I put on the "Jul 02" tape and caught a glimpse of my dad, the healthy, rotund, expressive man he is. I was surprised; he now looks skinnier and more frail. Everyone seemed to think I should fast-forward because it would hurt him. But my dad was a picture of contentment: "What would not please me about looking healthy and good?"

My mother hadn't changed very much. Sure, her face was younger, and she was fatter, but it didn't strike us as a big difference.

I had recorded on the tape various segments from our daily lives. In one clip, while the living room TV played to no one, I panned around the room zooming on various things - slices of cake left on the table, my parent's wedding photo ... In outdoor clips, I took in the settings for minutes on end. They said they were bored. My youngest sister said that whatever the merits of my filming, I was the only one to appreciate it - so perhaps I can fast-forward?

My clips were greeted with silence. Then my mother led the charge: "Hamada has aged!" Then everyone joined in. "Oh my God, he had hair!" "He was thinner and so much younger." My dad teased me: "Everyone's aged a little, but Ahmed, I would say 40 years at least."

I couldn't see that much of a difference. But I guess I was in the minority on that one too.

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