Two Rivers - pt. 9

January 2008  

I could hear their voices even before I got to our spot - annoying idiots laughing at nothing and poking fun at each other. They were behind the trees, just down the road from school – the trees where Hamza and I met every day after class. Danish wasn't there. I could tell because of how much Feroz was talking. I'd noticed he was a completely different person without Danish - everyone in the group was. It's not like they were scared of him, but when he wasn't around everything wasn't about him anymore.

There was nothing to do but ignore them and wait. They were lounging against the wall behind the trees, and I'd been there often enough to know that it was hard to see the road from there. This was always a busy time. Cars crowded the small street, honking at each other even as kids and parents squeezed between them to cross or get to a car they'd left parked in the middle of the traffic. I'd realized the smarter parents made their kids walk down to different, less crowded roads to be picked up. Most kids were like me and walked all the way home. I imagined what a bird would see in the afternoon – a steady stream of light blue (the colour of our uniform) leaving the school and spreading out into the city, getting thinner and thinner until it disappeared.

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently, ignoring the groups of kids (older and younger) that walked by. What was taking him so long? Eventually, the crowd dispersed and the road emptied. I kept waiting. An occasional straggler would leave the school gates alone, looking at the ground with both hands on their bag straps as they walked past me. They stared until they got close; people had been doing that more and more lately. Still, Hamza was nowhere to be seen.

And of course, that's when Feroz and his friends decided it was time to go home. I turned away as they left the trees – maybe they wouldn't see me. But they did. The laughing and joking came to a halt when one of them shouted, "hey, isn’t that the pathan boy!"

"He looks like a degenerate!"

"Hush, don't you know he's a terrorist!"

Two Rivers - pt. 8

Ahmed Gulzar
16 Cham St.
Mingora, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa
Pakistan

26th October 2007

Dear Mina,

I just saw your letter, and yesterday we saw on the TV that the army is fighting terrorists in Swat. Is that true?? What's going on? Are you okay? Is everyone else okay?

Uncle Masood tried calling, but it didn't work. Can you tell Abu to call him when you get this letter?

Don't worry about anything. The army is amazing! They have all these strong planes and tanks. They'll kill the terrorists and then you can go to school again (I don't know why you want to though, school sucks!).

Write back as soon as possible,
Alam

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Alam Zawar
32-A Sarwar Shaheed Rd, Ichra
Lahore, Punjab
Pakistan

17th November 2007

Dear Alam,

I don't know if you've written to me recently, but I haven't gotten any letters. Uncle Gulzar isn't coming up here anymore. I guess he doesn't have any tourists. Why would anyone want to come here? Even if they did, I don’t know if the horrible Taliban would let them. I'm writing this because Aimal bhai was at the farm and he told me that he's going to go to Kalam. I asked him to get a letter to the postal service. 

Anyway, I hope you get this letter. Did you get my last one? The Taliban are everywhere. They're like the police now. But they make up their own stupid rules and none of them make any sense. Ami and I can't leave the house anymore; Abu won't let us. You can't even imagine how bored I am, Alam! There's nothing to do. I just sit here and read my old books or help Ami with chores.

Aimal Bhai's been visiting pretty often, and he's told me all sorts of things. He said that in Matiltan there's a body in the market every week. A body, Alam. They cut off the head and hang it somewhere else in the village. It's horrible. I asked Abu if it's true, but he didn't say anything...So I guess it must be. Every day, I think about all the people I know in the town, and I pray it wasn’t one of them.

Bilal got in really big trouble. I don't know what he did, but one day Uncle Rehmat came running to our house shouting that he was being punished. Him and Abu went to Matiltan together. When they came back, they were carrying him. He was crying and bleeding, so they brought him here. Ami, me and Aunty Rehmat took off his shirt (we had to use scissors and cut it off because it was stuck to his cuts). He had so many straight red lines on his back. They'd held him down and lashed him. Don't worry, he's okay now...But I've never seen him cry so much before. It must have really hurt.

Oh Alam, who are these people and why have they come to ruin our lives? They keep saying that they're bringing Islamic Law to the country, but this isn't the same Islam that Nano and Abu taught us. And Abu keeps saying that. He's so angry and tense all the time, he'll yell at us for no reason. But every night, he tells me that this isn't Islam. That these are all just bad people. He says that they will be punished in the afterlife. But I'm scared. Because Jamal isn't a bad person. And if he joined them, it's because they tricked him. Will he also be punished?

There are rumours about the army. Abu and Uncle Rehmat often talk about it quietly over dinner, and Aimal Bhai told me too. We haven't seen anything. No soldiers, no planes, nothing. But they say that the military has started fighting further South in the Valley. They say that people are leaving their homes, or that the military's bombs are killing them. They say the military doesn't care about us Pashtuns.

Alam, we all miss you so much. But everything is so terrible right now that I'm happy you aren't here. I'm happy you're safe in Lahore. Keep going to school and working hard! I wish I could.

Mina

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Two Rivers - pt. 7

Alam Zawar
32-A Sarwar Shaheed Rd, Icchra
Lahore, Punjab
Pakistan

3rd September 2007

Dear Alam,

Today was meant to be the first day of school. I packed my bag, cleaned my uniform, and I met the other girls in Matiltan. But it was terrible...there was no school. Do you remember when I told you about the people with white flags? The ones that Abu calls Taliban? They were there. They’ve been here all summer. They drive around in their trucks and they yell at people, and they threaten them with their guns for no reason.  They’ve even told me to wear my dupatta properly. As if I wouldn’t know how to wear a dupatta! Alam, they’re the most horrible people ever.

And they were at the school today. Four of them, with their guns. They were just standing outside the door, and we were too scared to go close. There were other villagers too, and some of them went to talk to the men with guns. They said the school is closed. They said girls shouldn’t be in school. And then, it was horrible Alam. Do you remember Aunty Palwasha? She’s my teacher. Another one of them came out of the school holding her. She was bleeding and crying.

They started throwing her around, throwing her to each other and to the ground. The villagers got really angry and yelled at the men with guns. They started throwing stones. But the bad guys fired their guns into the air. Have you ever heard a gun? It’s so loud. I had to cover my ears. I took the other girls and we hid behind a house. The bad guys said Aunty Palwasha was under arrest. But the villagers were really angry, and they kept yelling and fighting and there was more gunfire and someone was screaming. We just hid. It was so scary. Do you remember Aimal Bhai? He found us, and he took us through the smaller streets and back home. They were still fighting when we left.

My hands are still shaking. Dad was so angry and upset when he found out what happened. He told me I’m not allowed to leave the house any more. I can’t even go out to the farm unless he’s there as well. What’s going to happen to Aunty Palwasha? I’m so worried. She didn’t do anything wrong! And where’s the police, Alam? Aren’t they meant to keep us safe? Where’s the army? Aren’t they meant to protect us from evil people?

Jamal is gone. I told you he’d left last winter, but none of us have seen him since. We never talk about him. I’m worried. I hope he’s okay. And I’m terrified that he might have joined these bad people. Mom is so sad now. She’s always crying. And when I ask her why, she says because both her sons have left her. And Dad is always angry. I think he’s also very upset that Jamal left. But he doesn’t cry. He just beats mom when she does.

I hope everything is better for you. Hamza sounds like a great person, I’d love to meet him. And I think Bilal would like him too. I miss you so much!

Lots of love,

Mina

Two Rivers - pt. 6

Alam Zawar
32-A Sarwar Shaheed Rd, Icchra
Lahore, Punjab
Pakistan

5th May 2007

Dear Alam,

As Salam Au Alaykum my brother. If god wills, this letter will find you in good health. It’s been so long since we talked. You’ve been in Lahore for at least a year and a half now, and I hope you still remember the home you have in Swat. I know that you were angry with me when you left, but I hope that god has given you the strength to forgive.

I am writing this letter with the help of Mullah Ibrahim, who has become my mentor over the past months. He has instructed me to find peace with all those I have wronged. I’m sure that Mina has told you that I left our home and spent the last winter in Matiltan. Here, Mullah Ibrahim has opened a new madrasa that is teaching children our age the true word of god and the prophet (peace be upon him). I’m here with many children from the nearby villages and farms. We spend the day in classes and then help with chores afterwards.

Every evening after maghrib prayer, I bring tea and snacks to the main room. Here, Mullah Ibrahim and other enlightened people sit together and listen to a radio show hosted by Mullah Fazlullah. He is a wise man with some ideas on how to improve the state of our country and bring us closer to god. If possible, I recommend that you find a way to listen to his broadcasts and share them with your friends.

Once again, I hope you are in good health.

Jamal.

P.S. Alam, I am so sorry that you had to go to Lahore because of me. I hope you come back soon! I don't think Abu is angry at you anymore. He's angry at me now. Did Mina tell you anything? He was so mad when I left. I asked him if I can spend the winter at the madrasa, but Abu hates Mullah Ibrahim. He yelled at me and beat me with his stick. I ran out of the house and couldn't even take any clothes like you did. It's okay. Like the Mullah says, god sees all.

Two Rivers - pt. 5

Alam Zawar
32-A Sarwar Shaheed Rd, Icchra
Lahore, Punjab
Pakistan

18th April 2006

Dear Alam,

I’m sorry this letter is late! We only just got yours from December. Uncle Gulzar was taking two tourists (from Karachi) to the mountains in the North and he dropped it off on the way. The road is still blocked by the glacier and he said his car almost fell off the mountain trying to get around it! Can you imagine??

We were so excited to see your letter! We all sat together and I read it out loud before dinner. Bilal and Uncle Rehmat were there too! Everyone misses you so much! Especially Ami, she cried and cried and I had to massage her legs before she felt better.

I wish you would’ve told us more about your school! “School is fine” doesn’t mean anything! I mean, you’re going to school in Lahore! You’ll be able to do anything you want to afterwards. Are you going to become a Doctor? Or an Engineer? Or a Businessman? Or maybe you’ll be a Politician? No don’t do that, Abu says politicians are slimy. What are your Punjabi classmates like? Did you make any friends yet? It’s been so many months, you must have made a lot of friends by now!

It’s so exciting that you’re working in a rickshaw shop. What are rickshaw’s like? How fast do they go? Are they loud? Do they smell bad?  There must be so many of them in Lahore! 

Everyone told me to tell you something, so I should do that now. Let’s see…Abu said to thank Uncle Masood again, and to keep working hard. Ami said to take care of your health, be careful and don’t trust strangers. Nano said to keep praying (and then she started praying for you). Bilal said Lahore sucks and you should come back here (he misses you so much!). And I asked Jamal to say something, but he said you’re mad at him. How come you’re mad at him, Alam??

Anyway, I’m running out of space so take care of yourself and keep working hard!

Love,

Mina

P.S. I should be able to reply much sooner next time!

Nature vs Nurture: Some Thoughts on the White Supremacy Movement

Warning: This is fully 100% conjecture and opinions that I don't have any significant amount of backing for (as usual). Feel free to verbally destroy me with intimate knowledge, scientific studies and scary numbers. But if you choose to do so, please be nice...I'm rather sensitive :(

We often talk about the idea of nature vs nurture - whether our genes or our environment are the determinants of our psychology. For all the debate out there, I feel that it is (or should be) reasonably obvious that both play a significant role in shaping our world view and personality (i.e they're not mutually exclusive). Moreover, the two interact with each other - it is in our nature to adapt and learn from the environment in which we live. That innate ability to adapt is what has made us such a versatile and successful species.

Personally, I often find myself falling on the side of nature when thinking about these things. Part of the reason why is because I really do view humans as one views animals - driven by primal desires to survive and propagate genes. This is consistent with my evolutionary worldview (that consistency being a worthy exchange for the large quantities of cynicism this type of thinking brings). The nice thing is that even if humans are ultimately animals, I'm one of them and understand their language and individuality. I also think that we have a lot more complexity and layers, so much so that connecting our actions to those primal instincts can often be difficult or impossible.

There's one more caveat to my view. I sometimes feel that we're outgrowing some of those instincts, and slowly (or rapidly in geological age), we're finding enough distractions to give life a new meaning. And our emotions are what drive us to that meaning. But I'm not sure, and maybe those emotions just ultimately tie back to a primal instinct.

As a more specific example, a lot of us have made it our life's purpose to be joyful. This makes sense to me. Joy feels good. But maybe joy exists so we re-do what we just did to bring us that joy? Maybe this is important because whatever we did pertains to survival or gene propagation. It's easy to imagine in social settings. I imagine that the nice homo sapiens sitting around their fire 100'000 years ago felt joy in each other's company just as we do sitting around a pub table sharing drinks and food with friends. That feeling of joy would encourage them to seek that experience again, and thus strengthen those bonds with their fellow tribesmen. Social bonds directly led to survival (like when your buddy saves you from a lion), as well as gene propagation/protection of offspring.

Maybe the link to modern day is direct. Like when your buddy saves you on the math exam, thus letting you pass engineering, thus reaching the promised land of attractive ladies and a successful life (note: it's a lie). But likely it's not that simple. What is clear to me though, is that our survival has always been incumbent on social interactions, and that's why our emotions are so sensitive in social settings.

Two Rivers - pt. 4

Alam Zawar
32-A Sarwar Shaheed Rd, Icchra
Lahore, Punjab
Pakistan

14th December 2005

Dear Alam,

What's Lahore like? What school are you going to? How many classmates do you have? What are you learning? Did you make any friends? Can you speak Punjabi yet?

Everyone here is fine! It's gotten cold now, and it snowed yesterday.

We all miss you so much. Especially Bilal. He was really angry and sad when he found out you were gone. Don't tell him I told you, but he was even crying. Didn't you tell him you were leaving? Now he's so lonely. I think he's sad you never said goodbye. You should write to him. Oh, Jamal says he's sad too.

Ami is always talking about you. She wanted Abu to call you every day, but he said he doesn't want to disturb Uncle Masood. That's why I asked him to get your address, so I can write to you. Make sure you reply. Send your letter to Uncle Gulzar and he can give it to us when he comes on a tour. I made him write down his address, it's on the other piece of paper in this envelope. Do you remember how to write a letter? Make sure you do it right.

I hope you're behaving. Abu was so grateful to Uncle Masood. He told us that Uncle Zubair tricked us. Did that really happen? He seemed like such a nice man. Anyway, Abu really likes Uncle Masood so make sure you work hard for him.

The glaciers are going to block off the road soon, so I might not be able to write to you again before Spring. Until then, take care of yourself and say all of your prayers.

Much love,
Mina

Two Rivers - pt. 3

October 2005

I could hardly wave before the car, which had been vibrating strongly, jerked forward. Next thing I knew, I was bobbing up and down and violently thrown against the door. Uncle Rehmat’s complains about our road suddenly made a lot more sense. I’d never even realized how small it was until looking down from the car window, I could see the tires rolling centimeters from the edge of the cliff. 

But Uncle Gulzar seemed to know the road like the back of his hand. He sped up, turned and slowed down constantly to get around bumps and tight corners. Every time I was sure we were about to fall off, he would swerve the wheel and we'd be safe. Still, I held on to my seat tightly.

The two adults talked, but the only thing I could think about was not throwing up. We passed through Matiltan, with Uncle Gulzar waving at the locals. While driving through a dark forest of tall trees, I asked him to stop the car so I could run out and be sick behind a bush.

He was waiting impatiently, tapping his watch when I returned.

“Stick your head out the window.” He said, and we continued down the road.

It was good advice. The car was so small that I felt like I couldn’t breath. But with my head outside the window, I could feel the wind blowing and see the scenery. Exiting the forest, we came to the top of a hill. From there I could see the two rivers Ushu and Gabral collide to make the Swat. And at their banks was the town of Kalam.

A few roads connected lavishly decorated buildings, with roofs painted green or bright red, with the main road which ran through a market and exited the town to the south. As we approached, I realized that the entire valley behind the town was populated with houses and farms. The people in those farms must have treated Kalam the same way we treated Matiltan. That’s where they went to school and went shopping or said their prayers. 

The town was a lot larger than Matiltan though, and cars, people and carts pulled by donkeys joined us on the road through the market with its smell of grilling meats and curries.

Eventually we left Kalam and again found ourselves travelling through mountains. Though the river had grown wider, and the road more crowded, the land south of Kalam looked like that to the North. I noticed that we were generally going down hill more often than up, and Uncle Gulzar said that the mountains would be long behind us by the time we got to Mingora. 

Two Rivers - pt. 2

October 2005

The weeks passed slowly after our adventure on the mountain. With the end of the harvest, we started planting wheat. Every day was colder than the last, but Abu didn’t turn on the heater. Instead we bundled ourselves up in the thicker blankets and slept together. Abu didn’t talk to me the way he used to, I could tell he was still angry.

Bilal had also been punished, and Uncle Rehmat had stopped sending him to class. On most days, only Jamal and I were there. Every morning, Uncle Drogar would walk in and scowl when he saw us. I could tell he had been hoping for an empty classroom. The days were getting shorter. By the end of class, there was almost no light at all, and Uncle Drogar had lit a candle to light the board. We walked home in the dark, along the familiar road.

It was on one of these early nights that Jamal and I stumbled upon a stranded car. The big jeep, with all of its English writing on it, was covered in dirt. It was tilted strangely, and we realized that one of the tires had shrunk and flattened.

“Isn’t this Uncle Gulzar’s car?” I asked Jamal.

“I think so…”

Uncle Gulzar was a friend of Abu's who gave tours of the area. He often drove by our farm on the way further north.

“Come on, he probably stopped at the farm and asked Abu for help.” I said.

When we reached home, Abu was standing outside talking on his cellphone. “Kamran, are you sure you can’t you send someone tonight?” He saw us and covered the phone with a hand. “Go in and say Salam.”

Uncle Gulzar was sitting on the ground talking with Ami and Mina. I had expected him to have a tourist with him, but the man sitting next to him looked like he was also from Swat.

Two Rivers - pt. 1

September 2005

Night in the valley was dark and peaceful. Frigid in the winter and chilly in the summer. You didn’t see the moon too often; it hid behind mountains. Enormous black silhouettes, jagged and uneven and never the same as one another. But I had all of their shapes memorized. The colour and outline of their rocks. The trees, all of the different types and where they were on the hill, which way they leaned from being blown by the wind. 

So even at night, I could look at a mountain and see it as clear as day. I could imagine the path I would take to the top, long and winding and never obvious. Of course, I couldn’t actually do it. I’d get tired half way up the smallest ones. Once you were actually on the mountain, it loomed over you a million times bigger than it was from a distance. 

My favourite nights were when Abu gathered wood and started a fire in the clearing in front our house; the same place where he slaughtered chickens and goats. I would watch as blood ran down the little gutter he’d dug out and drip into the rushing river, disappearing in the blue and white of the rapids. I’d listen as the animal kicked and struggled and shrieked, trying to escape even as it bled out. The entire time, Abu would hold it down and pray. But that was a daytime thing. It never happened at night. After dinner, after the blood had dried into the ground, Abu would start his fire. 

Then Jamal, Mina and I would go into our house and into the biggest room, the one with rugs and pillows on which we all sat on cold nights. We’d call out “Nano, are you awake?” 

She would reply, “Oh, come here come here.” And we’d run to her to be kissed and hugged. 

Then Mina would say “Nano, come outside! Abu's starting a fire!” 

Nano would laugh and say “Sorry Mina my love, but I can’t walk.” 

And then I’d say “We’ll take you!” Mina would find an extra blanket to keep her warm and all three of us would carry her charpai through the door and set it down close to the fire. 

Once the fire was bright enough, Uncle Rehmat would walk from his farm down the road with Bilal running in front. They’d come sit with us. Uncle on the other charpai with Abu and Bilal on the ground with the rest of us. Ami wouldn’t come until much later; she always had to put Maryam to sleep. Maryam was only one, so she slept a lot. 

10 years and a retrospective

10 years ago yesterday, I got off a plane at Pearson Intl airport and stepped into the most defining phase of my life (so far!) I don't remember too much, except that it was incredibly overwhelming. I remember thinking that the airport was really nice. I also remember observing that there were a lot of people from a lot of different places, but hey it was an airport so that made sense. Other than that, I was really tired from sitting around in the plane for so long. We got a pizza thing on that flight. Being the picky eater I used to be, I was quite happy with that and really wanted more (airplane food had until then, universally sucked). That pizza thing would single-handedly result in me holding Air Canada in high esteem for the next couple of years.

We eventually got out of the airport, and lo and behold it was snowing. And it was cold. So cold. I think I almost died. Don't get me wrong, we fully expected the wrath of the Canadian winter. But I think that we may have just underestimated it. It was quite the contrast, having spent years in Qatar. A country where winters are probably as warm as the summers in Canada. None the less, it was so different that I enjoyed it! There I was, running around trying to act all grown up and making sure our luggage was in tow. My mom yelled and screamed, telling me to get inside, or to cover up more or something. Glad we got through that.

My Uncle (Dad's younger brother) picked us up. It's kind of funny. I feel like his life decisions are what probably led to us moving to Canada. Dad had got a new job in Nigeria. He didn't want us to be educated there, especially with my younger brother being hearing impaired. So he decided to send us to Canada, a country he was told to be really nice by his brother, where we can study while he works overseas.

My Uncle's story is especially inspiring. He brought his family over from Pakistan, from nothing to nothing kind of deal. Worked hard, taking on a job in a factory before finally making his own (and very successful business!) But I'm not going to butcher his and his family's journey with my imperfect and incomplete knowledge of it.

Before I go any further, I feel that for the sake of building the narrative, I should establish the setting and context of this whole thing. Here's my journey in some pictures.

This is where it all started. The union of my beloved parents. My dad's always been a bad-ass moustache kinda guy. I'm glad to know that his game was on point on his wedding day. 

The second of three siblings, I was born in Lahore and spent the first few years of my life in my grandfather's house there. It's not the nicest area of the city, but this was the house that my granddad (paternal) built for his family. The house that my dad was raised in. It is a very special place in my memories. We still have family living there, so of course it's not just a memory. 

My younger brother was born late in 1997. A year or so after his birth, we found out that he was completely deaf in both years. One of the strongest memories from my childhood is my mom running out of the hospital to where my older brother and I were waiting, crying. I promised myself I wouldn't make her cry again. That was a promise I have broken repeatedly. We spent some time in London, where he received an operation for a cochlear implant. We decided that we would exclusively speak english, and then my dad had a new job in Turkey and we moved to Ankara.

Turkey was kind to us. A beautiful country, with wonderful people. I have a few memories from it, though not nearly enough. This is a picture of the family with all of the grandparents when they visited 

Pamukkale, Turkey.

At some point in 2001 we decided to move to Qatar. Here's us dressing up for school on Halloween. We're standing in our front "lawn!" My older brother and I spent an absurd amount of time out here, and beyond those doors playing cricket on the road. 

We had family in Qatar too. 

We even had pet rabbits! 

At some point, our beloved 500 series BMW, which had been with us since Turkey caught fire. My mom was on the way to pick up my brother and I from cricket practice. I've been forever grateful that she pulled over and got out of the car the moment she saw smoke from the hood. 

Of course we went home to Pakistan too. This is a picture from the house in which my mother grew up, in a town near the city of Multan. Another house which is really special in my memories. Unfortunately, this house was ruined in the floods of 2010, which caused my grandparent's to move next to their oldest daughter's house in Islamabad. 

School was tough in Qatar. We went to a British school, and I exclusively had British teachers while there. But it was strange because as a non-arabic speaker, I really was the odd one out in my class. Nonetheless, the few friendships I made, I've cherished to this day. 

There's a bit of a gap here in the photo history, but the next we knew, we had moved to Canada. This picture of course was taken in our current home in Richmond Hill, soon after we bought it. We spent the first few months in Missisauga. 

Naturally, we decided to spend our first Canadian summer outside of Canada. We visited Dad twice in Nigeria, and both times lined up nicely with his birthday. The second time we even dropped by Kenya for a safari. 

The next thing I knew, we'd been in this country for a full five years and we were waiting to take our oath of citizenship. 

And then I was a Canadian. 

I met a bunch of really cool people. Unfortunately, I could only find a picture of these fools.

Naturally, we still visit our birthland. 

Well, there you have it. My life. These pictures seem to form some story or another. They're missing the hours I spent in the universe that my older brother and I had made up, telling stories to one another. They're missing the scratches and bite marks that my younger brother and I inflicted upon one another. They're missing the tears of my mother, and her pain of having to raise 3 disobedient boys. One of whom required special care. Of her pain of having to do it for three years without her husband. Of her inability to practice medicine because she was too busy taking care of us. They're missing the sweat and stress that my father endured so that he could bring us to this country and give us the million opportunities we have now. Of his pain in being away from his family, all alone in a foreign land so that he could bring literal light to people who would never know him. 

I guess it's obvious. Our lives are so full of emotion and experiences that there is no simple way to summarize them. My story is an ordinary one but I still wanted to share it. It began in Lahore, and ends with me as a Canadian citizen. I think it's wonderful because it's so definitely Canadian. And the fact that it happened in the first place, is something that this country should be proud of.

In this country, the dominant culture is one that accepts and sees the human experience in all people. Canadians acknowledge the value of all human life, and respect all human culture. We don't look at people and see their country of origin. We look at people and we see another human being. Our instinct is then to understand their way of life and respect them for it. In Canada, there is no "us and them." I think that this is a quality of our country that we absolutely must cherish. 

This is all especially relevant with the ongoing refugee crisis. My own perspective is that this country has given so much to my family. And I want to give back. I imagine, that for many who are suffering and living in far worse conditions than I ever did, this country's salvation would be a godsend. And I believe, that if we continue seeing the humanity in every human, the acts that seem so much like charity now will not only strengthen the nation, but be something our children can be proud of. 

I'm not the best with words. And I've now realized, long after it's too late to stop writing this, that there is no way I will truly be able to convey what this country has done for me. Canada has defined my personality and who I am probably more than any other place I've lived and I am proud of it. It's made me a better person. It's opened my mind and my heart, and it's allowed me to meet the most wonderful people. It's given my the ability to understand our shared human struggle, and sympathize with all people. 

I know that tough times come. Oil prices are down, there's a lack of jobs, tuition is expensive as all hell, etc. But I think that at it's heart, which is the heart of the people, Canada is doing well. It's doing wonderfully, and I love it. 

The Saga of Zammar the Great #15: Black! Lands!

Story Recap:

The forces of Candahar were saved from the Und’kal threat by the intervention of armies from The Whitelands, The Dragon Empire and Indus. In the aftermath of the fight, Ren mediated deeply rooted conflicts between these parties in an attempt to form alliances that were inevitably unstable.

Because the battle of Candahar left the city destroyed, Ren established a refugee camp, where she gathered people who had fled the Und’kal menace. She also housed the armies that had come to Candahar’s rescue. In preparation to counter  the alien threat, she asked representatives to call their leaders for a meeting of nations.

Abasi fled the destruction of Kampalla with companions Imad, Hadi and Jamil. While on a journey to bring warning of the Und’kal threat to the Pharaoh, god-king of the Blacklands, the four found themselves waylaid at Candahar. Here, Abasi met with his old friend Omir, and learned how Abejide, one of the chiefs of Candahar had accepted white people into the city. Before the two could act, the Und’kal horde fell upon the city, and Abasi was dragged into battle.  

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Ren fidgeted ceaselessly with her hair. Maybe the braids were too much…I should have tied it in a tail. But this is what the women of the Blacklands do. What if they think it’s rude of me to copy them? I should have just left it down...

“You look wonderful, my Queen.” Maria said.

“I don’t know…I should have worn that dress that the village chief from Boran gave me…” She said, pulling on her awkward leather jerkin. “But it was so big…I thought it would look strange. I used to have so many nice dresses…”

“This is a time of war, you need to show that you are ready to fight…”

“And the hair…maybe we shouldn’t have braided all of it…Or leave it straight…Or I don’t know…” Her voice was shaky.

Maria extended her arms to hold Ren’s shoulders. “My Queen. You will be fine, you need not worry about these things.”

“But it’s the first time they see me…”

“And they will love you, my Queen.”

“Brenda, Abejide is almost done.” Zammar’s booming voice spoke above her.

Ren’s fingers started numbing. With Maria, she had been hiding behind Zammar for the duration of the ceremony, trying to calm her nerves. Now she focused her hearing on the ethereal chanting that filled the dry desert air.

She peeked her head around Zammar’s arm. Abejide was standing on an improvised podium of dirt in front of a low mound.  His arms were raised in the air as he crescendoed to a high note. The remnants of the Candaharan people, so few now, stood across the mound from him and imitated the chant.  

The mass burial ceremony was taking place just beyond the blood stained ground where the battle had been fought. Behind the Candaharans, and as testament to their resolve, the remaining structures of their city were finally starting to materialize from rubble. In the distance, downwind to the south, a dark and thick plume of smoke rose to the sky. Ren had decreed that all Und’kal corpses be burned, not wanting to risk disease.

“It looks like the white people are finished as well.” Maria said.

The large gathering of soldiers from Lion’s Gate was walking slowly towards Abejide and his followers. Behind them, six horses rode to the north. They carried bodies wrapped in ornate cloth and were led by three armoured riders. The soldiers would be buried in their homeland, by ancient tradition.

“Why do they wear that heavy metal? Are they so afraid of us that they think we will attack them at such a time?” Maria said.

Minus their helmets, every soldier from the Lion’s Gate assembly was fully adorned for battle, regal in their golden plated armour. Moving as a group, they looked formidable. Ren had to squint against the sunlight that bounced off the wall of steel before she could make out Anderson proudly leading the men. I guess looking powerful is more important than being cooked alive...Even Ren, in her sleeveless jerkin, was sweating in the desert heat.

The chanting stopped suddenly, leaving behind an eerie and empty silence.

“Looks like all of the others are coming now.” Zammar said.

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 12

Hello!

I have finally finished the Catalyst OTM cycle, and I must say that it has been a great ride. I feel kind of unfortunate that I had to skip a week between week 11 and 12. A lot of things came up really suddenly (including a Sabaton/Nightwish concert!!) and I was just not in a position to train.

I think that skipping that week, and then doing things like trampolining over that weekend sort of messed me up for week 12. Unfortunately, I was unable to end the term with a PR. Pretty disappointing, but not a big deal.

Week 12 is actually meant to be a deload week that concludes the training cycle with max attempts on the last day. I think that as a part of the program, it would work effectively as a taper to a max. But because I messed up by taking a week off, I was not really ready for heavy weights on the max days. I also split the max day in to two separate days for Snatch/CJ.

Snatching went great, I spent the week working on technique and feeling it out and getting back into it. And on Sunday, I felt really good about snatching. I hit up to 165 without missing. I'm not sure if maybe it was just out of position a bit or I'm just weak, but 165 felt really heavy overhead. And I think that thought along with the pressure of going for a PR messed me up for 170. It's a major weakness of mine, to get nervous before going for a PR. It's 5lbs, perfectly within my capability, practically not even heavier than the previous weight. It's all in my head though; demons I must conquer. Oh well, I was happy to be able to hit 165 twice.

CJ I think is what I messed up with the week off. I wasn't really prepared to go heavy. And I think I made the other mistake of taking minimal warm up weights. The idea was to conserve energy for the max attempts, but the jumps were a bit too big (I was taking 15lb jumps), and the weight felt too heavy off the ground that I just crashed on receiving. It's been a weakness since the day I started lifting, and it has improved a lot, but I still need to work on preventing the bar from crushing me on the receive. I guess a part of it is just confident from lifting heavy often. Either way, the second 225 I missed the jerk because the clean was really inefficient. Now to be fair, I haven't Front Squatted more than 225 for probably > 6 months.

Not such a big deal. I think 225 is a weight that is meant to be lifted for the first time at the PAC. And I hope this coming term to hit it pretty quickly! All it takes is a good day xD

So overall progress with the program: I'm happy. I know that all I managed was a 5lb PR on both lifts. But the program brought my Snatch up from around 135, and I was practically not CJing at all when I started. Besides, I make really really slow progress in weightlifting. I think the OTM cycle was just what I needed. It's unfortunate that complications occurred, such as delaying days/weeks, and the inability to decide on a form to stay consistent with (esp. for the Snatch). But I still think that consistency and confidence have improved significantly.

Moving forward, I will be taking a week off to recuperate mentally/physically. I'll try to post up my next cycle for the summer term by the end of the week. It won't be as set in stone as this one, because I know things will always come up during the school term. The focus will be imbalance correction, Structural/postural & Overhead strength. I think I'll also be squatting more, to try and keep the squatting movement fresh and get the weights back up to what they were before.

Thanks a lot for following, friends! Stay strong!

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 11

Week 11 has been a great week!

I finally finally managed to break my Snatch plateau.

I think it's been close to a year since I snatched 155. I hit 160 like 1-2 weeks after that. And then I tried 165, and I missed. So I tried it again, and I missed. And I tried, and missed again. And again. And again. And again. I would hit 160 just fine, everything was good. Add 5lbs on the bar, and all of a sudden it becomes impossible to lift. 165 haunted me. I used to have nightmares about that weight. I don't even know why, I had the strength to lift it, it was just a mental barrier. Technique always broke down significantly, I'd knock it forward, or I couldn't tighten up and receive it well; everything was just bad.

And then I started thinking about 160. "What if I miss 160..." And I missed. And then I thought about 155. "...What if I miss this too..." And on and on. Next thing I knew, I was missing 135lbs.

I don't lift much weight. But I've already found that this sport is incredibly hard. Not just physically, but mentally. You have to be prepared. You have to believe in yourself at a level beyond thought. Absolute faith in your ability, and you have to be brave enough to pull yourself underneath a heavy ass bar. I lack this.

This was a really depressing time for me. I've never progressed fast in weightlifting. It took me years to get my squat to where it is, and then you can compare it to people who can walk into the gym and squat just as much within a week. So to see my snatch, my favourite lift, actually accumulating negative progress was pretty demotivating.

I was even training 4-5 times a week, and when each session is 3-4 hours long, you spend a lot of time in the gym. Backwards progress is the last thing you want to see.

The Catalyst cycle has been great for me. It's helped me get back to where I was before without over thinking things. I guess all I needed was a reset, high volume at low weights and the ability to throw out my ego. Maybe all that happened was that I got really burned out always trying to push myself. But lessons were learned.

This was the penultimate week of the cycle. The last time you work up to heavy singles. Week 12 is essentially a deload and taper up to a max out day.

Clean and Jerks were a little bit bleh. Main reason was that I was apathetic and put them on the back burner to really push the snatch. I know I can do well in the CJ if I'm well rested.

So, I don't actually have the time this week for week 12's training unfortunately. I'm going to try to sneak in a training session tomorrow but it's a maybe. Week 12 will probably be next week. It's not such a big deal I think. The rest is just going to be trying to hit a PR or two. The goals are 170/225.

So, what's going to happen next?

After the cycle, I'm going to take a short break. I'm feeling really burned out after these 15ish weeks of training 5 times a week for 4 hours a day (my warm up takes forever :( ). So the week before classes is probably going to be all rest, with maybe one or two sessions.

Next term is when I'll begin the new cycle. I think it's pretty obvious watching the video, the reason for my misses at the heaviest weights seems to stem largely from the imbalances that have been formed due to the recent hip injury and my eternally stiff shoulder. At heavy weights I end up gripping and ripping, thus not controlling my movements very well, and imbalances just show more at heavy weights generally.

So fixing those imbalances will be one of the primary focuses for next term's training. For this, I'll probably be taking a much more active approach using exercise selection in the workout as opposed to just stretching and activation in the warmup/cool down. The second focus will be structural/postural strength. I'll be doing a lot of pulls, RDLs, SLDs, etc. To try and maintain strength over the bar and better back positioning. Will probably be 4 days a week (but will vary a lot with class and associated work). Squats will probably be low weight/high volume (to work on the imbalances). I'm also planning on working on Overhead stability. I've been basically power snatching exclusively this term. Partially to save the injured hip, but also because thinking about power snatching really helps tighten up and receive the bar well for me. It's just that my best weights are so low that I have the strength to power snatch them, but I lack other things that cause me to miss. But to get better, I still need to be prepared to hit full snatches though.

Will definitely be carrying forward loading and programming experiences learned from the OTM cycle.

Thanks for the read! Thanks for the support!

PS I'm sorry for being so loud! I've been encouraging myself to let loose a bit more, especially since I'm lifting alone. And the moment I locked out 165 was so cathartic that I ended up getting a bit excited xD

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 10

Week 10 is done. It was a really blergh week. I can make excuses like tiring work and horrible traffic (which for some reason persisted throughout the week). But I dunno, I just wasn't feeling it.

Sunday was better, though I had plenty of rest before then.

No video this week, didn't really have enough footage to justify it :p

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 9

Week 9 is done.

The program has switched to a Bulgarian style daily max training thing. And I've found it so far to be really hard, tiring and time consuming xD

I was doing fine for a Snatch HS and CJ HS once a week on a weekend when I'm rested. But It's really hard on weekdays after a long day at work. I was struggling with CJs this week but then I realized, at the end of the week too, that my start position was off. Also, didn't really have the energy after snatching heavy + back off sets.

The program also includes heavy singles for squats, which is a major first for me. I haven't squatted a heavy single in a really long time, as the last time I was avidly training squats, they were on a high volume program. But this is kind of good because it lets me see where I am, sort of. If only I wasn't so tired when it came time to squatting xD

IT band/Quad on my right leg was feeling really tight this week, so I took it easy on the squats anyway. 240 was 6 reps before the hip injury. I'm hoping to hit a minimum of 275 back squat by the end of the term/cycle.

Unfortunately, family things came up on Sunday so I had to move the training session back to Saturday. This meant I had 5 training sessions in a row. I think the result of this is pretty evident, in that I couldn't hit a 155 snatch on Saturday. (but I'm just making excuses xD)

That being said, I was really glad to hit 155 twice. 150 is the weight I expect myself to be able to hit on a daily basis. So getting back up to 155 feels good. Though every day it happened on the 2nd attempt. If I get it on the first, I'll try for 160. But I need to train smart through this phase. Can't spend excessive energy chasing Snatch PRs and miss out on the Clean and Jerk part. Just gotta put in the work.

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 8

Week 8 was a bit of a bleh week. I'm glad it was a deload week, because I felt so lethargic and more than that, apathetic. Part of the reason is that I was really into the Cricket world cup. I care a little bit less now that Pakistan's been knocked out, but I really wanna play some cricket!

So every day felt like I was just going through the motions.

There's also a lot of accumulated fatigue over the term. Not just physically, but because of work and as always, lack of sleep.

Oh well, will try to be more involved in the coming weeks. The program is now going to begin a bulgarian style cycle, with heavy singles on the Snatch, CJ and squats 3x a week. I'm going to veer off the written path in one major way: The program will have 2 days where CJ's are performed before Snatches. I can appreciate what Greg was doing here, but I think my priority is still on the snatch, so I'll be doing the snatches first.

Adios, and have a good week friends!

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 7

Week 7 is finally done, and with it the high volume portion of this program. Good riddance! (This OTM stuff is so tiring!)

On paper, this looks like a really good week. In many ways it was, but it was hell to get through as well. Back tightness from last week continued periodically throughout the week. As a result, the Jerk day was really not as good as it could have been, but still not bad. Unfortunately, I was so tired after that jerk training session that come Thursday for Cleans, my upper back was just fried. I had a really tough time staying tight on the receive, so I didn't want to push Cleans too much.

Snatching went great! Sort of. I managed to super man 150 after like 18 other reps at or above 85% on Tuesday. It displayed my imbalances to the worst extent they can be though :D. I was really in the mindset of "Just pick this thing up, man."

Friday's reps felt awkward, but I think were important in coming up with the right feeling and helped a lot on Sunday.

Sunday was awesome. Snatched up to 155, and probably couldve done 160 (in another attempt) if I didn't want to save energy for CJs. 160 is the all time best, and I haven't hit anything above 150 for close to 8 months now =|

As is evident in the video, back angle in the snatch is still a major source of inconsistency. The issue is that I just don't know what's right, and I end up improvising according to what feels right the day of...

The issue is that naturally, my back angle would be very horizontal. This feels good in some ways, letting me keep the bar closer in the 3rd pull, but it sacrifices so much power that I have a hard time power snatching anything. It also leads to drifting on my toes, and since I have a weak back, forces a bunch of arm bend.

On the other hand, if I keep my back more vertical, my hips are in a far better position to produce power and I can power snatch my best (probably, maybe?). It also seems to result in a tighter receive. Unfortunately, I end up hitting the bar forward, and this is really costly.

I've been trying to find a middle ground...I guess the experimentation continues =|

BUT GOOD NEWS

A PR, FINALLY! (after like 6 months or something)

And a big one! 220lb/100kg Clean and Jerk! It's only 5lbs better than the previous, but it's huge! First three digit lift, so pretty happy. Not as happy as 225 will make me though! :)

Interestingly, I really was not feeling C&J's on Sunday. Especially the jerks. I was pretty tired after Snatching, and sort of just did it. The jerks were crappy (kept shifting to front leg and not getting front foot out enough), but I managed to do the work. I'm confident that 230 is in the park on a better day.

Also, I randomly suffered an ab cramp while walking around yesterday (after training). It's a bit sore today, but hopefully will be better for tomorrows training.

Week 8 is deload week! (Thank you Greg :) )



p.s. I apologize for all the man grunting. I don't know when I became so noisy >_>

Catalyst OTM Cycle - Week 6 + Week 6.5

Hi everyone, super late on updating this.

I finished two weeks of training pretty well, including a fun Sunday at the PAC.

But for some reason, on Tuesday when I was meant to start week 7, my back was like NOPE. I think I slept in an awkward position and I woke up with it soo tight, in a way it hasn't been tight before. This time it was the thoracic area, not the traps like usual :p

I decided, regretfully to redo what I did in week 4.5 and take the week easy. All I did was 2 snatch technique sessions.

Will be starting week 7 tomorrow hopefully...

On a different note, I've sort of learned that training 5x a week is a bit too much for my body. It sucks, since that's like the minimum to make decent progress...But every time I train 5x a week, injuries happen >_>
I still plan on finishing this program, but it's something I'm keeping in mind moving forward.

Anyways, week 6:

Pretty decent week actually! 

I'm sort of starting to figure out Cues and etc. for Snatches. They're feeling decent. Cleans this week were awkward and weird, except for Sunday when I matched by all time best CJ of 215. That day Cleans felt awesome O_o, funny because snatches felt horrible. 

Jerks are feeling pretty good as well. 

The Saga of Zammar the Great #14: Father and Son (Indus pt.2)

Story Recap:

Indus is a land of people that live in close harmony with nature. These people tamed the indigenous animals, keeping them as lifelong companions. For thousands of years, different tribes warred amongst themselves. Now, though the nation has been unified under a council, those ancient tensions still linger.

The people of Baghadaar worship the spirits of Raj, Kavi and Harisha, the ancient kings of the tigers, snakes and monkeys.  Aitzaz (Aey-teh-zaaz) is a young tiger tamer of the city, whose tiger is named Khan. Two years ago, he graduated from training school with his classmates Maisa, Rahul, Sachiv and Mahit. These are companions who he has trained with since the choosing ceremony, where he was chosen as a tiger tamer by the spirit of Raj.

Now, just a week has passed since Aitzaz attended the choosing ceremony of his sister, Indira. Indira was chosen by Kavi as the tamer for the Anai-Kondra, a mythical snake that lives for a thousand years and whose birth signifies the beginning of a new age.

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Aitzaz stood outside a small wooden house and peered through a crack in the curtains that covered the window. He could just make out a pile of boxes wrapped in colourful cloth on the table across the room. Welcoming gifts? But it’s been two months...

Aitzaz had helped Lyla move into her new house after her parents, both tiger tamers, were killed. He remembered the day well. She had cried, and he had been there to comfort her. With Khan outside the door, Aitzaz had made sure that he was the only one to do so. The memory was bittersweet; tainted by guilt but redeemed by the joy he would experience over the next two months. She’s happier now, with me.

He knocked on the door, crossed his arms behind his back and waited with a humble smile.

“She’s not there, runt.”

The voice startled Aitzaz, and he turned around to three monkey tamers standing a few meters away. Arms crossed, monkeys hissing furiously on their shoulders, the three glared at him. He recognized them as three of the tamers that had had their choosing with Lyla, the same year as himself.

“Esam, hi.” Aitzaz’s voice didn’t sound nearly as aggressive as it had in his head.

Esam, who was tall with a pockmarked and scared face, cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just visiting Lyla…” Aitzaz mumbled. This is ridiculous, I’m a tiger. I shouldn’t be scared of these guys.

“Well she doesn’t want to see you.”

“What?”

“Just…leave Lyla alone you little shit.” Esam barred his teeth and swung his fist towards Aitzaz’s face. Aitzaz moved quickly; unlike the monkeys he’d been trained in physical combat. One hand blocked the attack while the other countered. The man’s abdomen caved behind the force of his blow.

Esam groaned and clutched at his stomach, but before Aitzaz could continue, he was hit hard from the right. He gasped and stumbled to the left. The other monkey tamers grabbed his arms and soon he was pinned between the two. Esam stood tall and glowered.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you little pig.” His fist made contact with Aitzaz’s stomach. Aitzaz braced in time, but the pain made him gasp. The next attack hurt even more. “Lyla doesn’t belong to you.” Esam spat on Aitzaz and punched him again. His monkey scratched Aitzaz’s arm and shrieked violently.