Wala Ala Balo

OK SO.  This afternoon I was on my computer, doing nothing in particular, probably watching another episode of "Sex and the City," cus, ummmm I'm hooked since last week.  I don't know why, really.  The show is...not the best.  But, I'm addicted to Carrie's wardrobe, and I find myself looking forward to the next episode just to see what she wears.  
Like for instance (before I get into the real purpose of this post) today in Season 4 Episode 11, Carrie and Samantha were just walking down 5th Avenue, minding their own beeswax, talking about one sexual position after another,  and meanwhile Carrie's sporting this blinggggg gold Allah chain, and I'm like, "uhhhhhhh is that allowed??"  but, it's totally allowed in Carrie's world.  She can wear anything, anytime, and look totally hot while she's wearing it.  I'm envious, to say the least.  So despite the lackluster dialogue that takes place among those women, you'll see me tuning in to Itunes for the remainder of the seasons.  


Back to my original plan.  


It's really interesting how many people we know without really thinking about how we know them until all of a sudden their presence in our lives becomes handy.  Like for instance, this afternoon.
I'm watching "Sex and the City" when I remembered that Rosa Rad hadn't sent me my "arabic-word-of-the-day" recently.  


Last semester, Rosa started messaging different Arabic words everyday, and we would have fun pretending that we knew how to speak fluently (Rosa's reading this right now going, "PRETENDING????").  So, by the end of the semester, I had a random collection of words that really had nothing to do with one another and that I couldn't really put together in a cohesive way.  So, I randomly would say things like, "ahlan wa sahlan ya rosa, i like to drink shaay eat dajaaj and enti sahiba!"  That means, "hi rosa, I like to drink tea, eat chick and you are my friend."  

Only, that's what that means to me and Rosa.  See, when I tried to "speak" Arabic to my Arab friends, they all looked at me like I was crazy.  And then I would look at them, laugh, and start singing, "Enta hayaattiii, enta habbiiiibbbiii" and then they would start laughing. 


So, I asked her to send me my word, and meanwhile, I organized all the words she had sent me into a nice word document.  And then I wrote out a message for my friend, Nivin, and posted it on her facebook wall comprised of everything I "knew" how to say in Arabic.  It said, 

"ahlan wa sahlan ya nivin, ana ismii Ranna. kifak, hayati? ana bekhair. ana fila3n saeedah. leemadha? leeana enti jameela. ana askon fi al-walayat al-motahidah al-amrikiyah fi washington dc. naam. anjaat! habibti, enti taalibah. kayfah? enti fi al-maktabah kol yown! fila3n? aynah, sahiba? ana oheb dajaaj, haleeb, shay wa lahm. naam naam. OK, la a3rif."

This literally translates into, "Hi Nivin.  My name is Ranna.  What's up?  I am fine.  I am very happy.  Why?  Because you are pretty good looking.  I live in the United States of American in Washington DC.  Yes.  Really!  You are a student.  How?  You are in the library every day!  Truly?  Where, my friend?  I like chicken, milk, tea, and meat.   Yes, yes.  OK, I'm sorry." 


I thought it was pretty funny.  I laughed.  So did Rosa. 


But then Nivin wrote back.  And she wrote:   "

rana saeedi 2nti wa7deh khalsa 3al akheer . wlaik shou mshan??? hahhaha 7abait 7abaaaaaaait"

And that's when I was like, "hold up, whaaaaattttttt?"  I write to you about how I like chicken, and all of a sudden, you're busting out with your straight thuggin Syrian slang talk?  Ummm have you no mercy??? 
So here's where it got tricky. 


I gchatted Rosa and was like, "homegirl, you have to help a sister out.  What does this mean?"  
And she was like, "Uhhhh I fail, Ranna, I have no idea."  
So we tried to decipher it word for word, but that didn't work because 1. I get all my words from Rosa 2. Rosa didn't know those words.  So we were like, what to do, what to do, what to do??  


Meanwhile, lil Miss Palindrome (Nivin, get it? It's a palidrome.  So cool, right?  if only my name was Rannar) sends me another comment, " bs 7loueh mnaik ya rana ;) 3ateeha 3arabi min 3andik ;)"  as if one comment isnt enough....


So Rosa and I are like, OK we know a lot of people, lets just ASK SOMEONE!  not as easy as it sounds.  Turns out, we know quite a few Arabs  but 1.Most of them werent on gmail chat or facebook chat when we really needed them 2. the ones that were, weren't our number one choices.  
But.  We had to.  We had to know what these things meant!  Oh, by the way, I'm using, "we" because it really was "we,"  I mean, Rosa is my partner in matters relating to Arabic language and culture.  She sends me daily texts about her encounters with Arabs, only bringing us one step closer to our main goal in life...to become Arabs. 


So, I asked this Palestinian girl I rarely ever talk to and she was like, "oh it means...."  I dont even remember because IT DIDNT MAKE ANY SENSE!  And Rosa asked this Syrian guy who was like, "basically she's calling Ranna crazy."  


Which made us laugh....but that's not all.  Rosa, ladies and gents, made a friend tonight, this Syrian guy, Adam?  Was that his name?  Adam reads Rosa's blog (AND SO SHOULD YOU), and he's like, "yo Rosa, I'm hella entertained by your blog," so Rosa TOTALLY loses sight of the problem at hand (the translation) and starts to talk to her new friend about OTHER THINGS NOT PERTAINING TO THIS.  


And then we gave up.  But not before I asked my other Syrian friend, who lives in Syria.  WHO IS IN SYRIA RIGHT NOW, haha, what it meant.  And she still gave me this answer that I didn't quite understand, but at least I got the gist of it?  


  What I really wanted to put across with this post is that it's funny how we meet all of these people and a lot of the time we don't even think about knowing them.  I mean, it's so easy these days to meet someone for an instant, hop onto facebook and "friend" them, without thinking about it, and we will remain friends until the day one of us decides, "ok, who is this person, and why am i his friend?"  whereby we will "de-friend" them.  It's sad, really.
  I felt bad asking those people tonight for the translation.  In a way, I really felt like a user and an abuser.  I mean, I literally was like, "Hiiiiiii (insert name here) how are you?  Could you do my a favor?  Do you think you could translate this for me?"  And then right when they gave me their answer I was all, "OK SEE YA!"  But it had to be done.  
But then, is that what all these networking sites are all about?  I mean, are we allowed to friend people with whom we're not very close, just for the purpose of having them in our lives JUST IN CASE we have to translate Arabic into English?  Maybe I shouldn't have gone through that defriending spree a couple months ago...hmmm.....


Well, in any case, I'm still waiting to actually figure out what she meant by those messages, but, it's not all bad, I did help rekindle Rosa's friendship with Adam.  I hope they're happy speaking Arabic with one another, while I'm left wondering what the hell, "3ateeha 3arabi min 3andik ;)" means.  


Just kidding, Roses, you know its all love here.  Behebbak, habibti.  Shokran, Afwan.  


ma'asalamaa (goodbye) 

The Land of Buffalo and 14ers

So I got my computer back yesterday (thanks Reza!) equipped with all sorts of cool things.  I'm really excited.  BUT, now that a week has passed since our trip to Colorado I feel sort of strange writing a blog post about it.  But, I guess I will since there was mucho I wanted to share.

SO COLORADO.  Salma and I grew up there, I lived there until I was 16 years old and that's when I moved to DC.  I thought it was the nightmare of my life unfolding when my mom told me that we were moving.  I thought I would never be happy again, and I spent the first 6 months of living here listening to Death Cab for Cutie on repeat, wearing brown corduroys, and cutting my bangs so they would cover my eyes (this equaled EMO for me.  Note--I still do all three things these days but I skip the label).  I was disheartened by everything that was northern Virginia.  I would go to school and I would get FREAKED out by the number of students who were NOT white.  And the worst thing for me was, I couldn't break into the "white" crowd at school, because I was just another Iranian, why did I want to be their friend anyway?

It was tough.  Slowly but surely, I began to find friends here and there, I started to appreciate living here more, and the tables began to turn.

Since then, I visited Colorado a couple of times, and each time, I felt that I was pulled farther and farther away from what my life had previously been.  This time, though, my connection with Colorado was virtually obsolete, and as much as I tried, I couldn't muster up enough energy to appreciate it.

It started I think while we were waiting in line at the airport to check in.  I looked over to my side and saw this young guy, probably my age, dressed in full-on military garb, standing there looking solemn.  I was pulled into a flashback of living in Colorado during the first deployment of American soldiers to Afghanistan.  The air was tense because so many of Colorado Springs citizens had military ties.  All over the city there were banners reading, "SUPPORT OUR TROOPS."  Restaurants, movie theaters, stores, they all gave military discounts.  I remember many of my classmates feeling bittersweet about their fathers and mothers leaving.  Sad because they had no idea what the future held for their parents, would they return and in what state?  Proud because they had a parent serving the United States Army.  They were pure patriots, they were, they held upmost dedication to the United States of America.

I always held my tongue at school when issues of the war would come up.  Already I had been labeled as "the other" when it came to issues of CITIZENSHIP.  Engar na engar I was born in the United States and I had been at school with these people since preschool.  No, during that period, it was always, "Ranna, aren't you from eyyyee-rack?"  No actually I'm not.  But that's where it ended.  These days, I don't really understand why I didn't try to educate my peers.  I think it was sort of as a means to fit in.  I didn't want to separate myself more from them by explaining that I was Iranian, and that Iran was here on the map, Iraq was here, Afghanistan was there, and that Guatemala and Greece shouldn't be confused, and couldn't by any means be used interchangeably.

So where was I, oh yeah, the airport.  So I started to think about all of these things while we were still in Dulles Airport.  And I found myself feeling a little queasy as I asked my mom, "Uhhh Mom?  Why are we going to Colorado again?  Who made this decision?  Do I have to go?"  I desperately wanted to stay back.  That wasn't happening.

When we got to Colorado, it didn't get any easier.  Life is different there.  Slower, more relaxed.  People take their time.  They say "hi" to each other in the street.  They drive slowly, no honking.  They wait in line for longer periods of time.

Coming from the east coast, things we are definitely not familiar with.  Living in DC for the last several years, I was not used to the relaxed nature of the sales clerks.  The way they talk to everyone, why do they want to know everyone's life story?  Pu-leese.  Ring me up, let me go.  KThanksBYE!

OK, so there I was after a couple days, sitting in our condo in Colorado and wondering once again why I couldn't just enjoy all of these things about Colorado instead of being so damn critical.  I wonder, if I had never lived here, if I didn't have the basis for comparison, would I appreciate being here more?  Would I appreciate the beauty of the mountains without thinking of the homogenous culture?  Would I be able to walk into a store, wait in line for a ridiculous amount of time and think, "How very quaint!  The culture of small-town life!  Sigghhhh.  Couldn't we all just sit back and smell the flowers every once in a while?"

Maybe.

But the issue of lack of diversity really gets to me.  I can't live in Colorado anymore because of this, I think.  I am comforted now by the fact that there are so many different kinds of people here, that there is an acceptance and a yearning to be educated about all the different ethnicities.  That I don't have to hide my Iranian lifestyle from my American one, that I can join them.

I have the perfect anecdote for this.

Since we've moved to Virginia, not ONE person has mispronounced my name.  So amazing.  I was completely 100% surprised when at school my first year at Marshall High School, all the teachers perfectly said, "Ranna" sans pause or difficulty.  It was such a breath of fresh air.  BECAUSE:

In Colorado, EVERYONE mispronounced my name.  It was always just known that OK first day of school, pause before they said a name, THAT name was my name.

But I had forgotten about this detail UNTIL

We went to get my Colorado Card (it's a card that's connected to a credit card and can be used as a lift ticket and also to buy food and merchandise) and the guy had my name in the system already and he called me "Reena."  REENA?!?!?  UUUH, excuse me, mister, but do you see any "E's" in my name?  No, I don't think so.  Reena??  Please.  So I corrected him and said, "Actually its RANNA."  BUT THEN, he said my name again, and called me Reena... AGAIN!!!  At that point I was like, ok whatever, Reena it is.  If you want.

Then, when I was telling Bryan, my stepbrother, about this, I asked, "is it because they don't take the time to look at my name, or QUOI?!?!"

We came to the conclusion that maybe its that.

But probably its because names there range from Katie-to Laura-to Madison.  Ranna is just ranging into the realm of the unknown.  And Saeedi?  Sheesh, that name taunts people into call Homeland Security.

"Well hey there missus, sayyyyyyy, wasn't Saeedi the name of one of those fellars there that crashed the planes?  One of those men there working for Obama?"

"Obama?  Obama?  Ohhhhh you mean Osama bin-Laden."

Laughs, "Osama, Obama, always get confused about those two."

Righhhhhhhhhhhhhhtttttt.

Man, I'm really being bad.  Lets not forget that Colorado was a blue state during the last elections.  Finally.  It's about time.

But, my bitterness is unfolding from all of the stereotypical racial slurs I received from my peers after September 11th up until we moved.  So, I have a right to throw it in their faces.

I want to write about Dani and Genevieve too, but I think they deserve their own blog post.  One that is not dripping with cynical sneers.

Tomorrow.