The life and lies of Hibatul Moin Rushda Binte Awn Syed

Norwegi-stani-ish

I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, some of them nice, some of them very nice and some not so nice. And most of the time its fine, I don’t really give a crap what people say. But after moving to Ireland I’ve been accused one too many times of actually being a freaking liar.
There are several ways of determining where a person is (technically) from, throughout the course of my life, I’ve learned three of them:

1. You’re from where you were raised
2. You’re form where you’re parents are from
3. You’re from where you were born

I grew up in the Scandinavian country of Norway. It was a great childhood, nice summers, and winter wonderland Christmases. I’ve been taking part in birthday celebrations of my classmates since kinder garden; I celebrated the Norwegian national day of May 17th since before I can remember. To this day I cannot imagine celebrating this day any other place than my beloved Oslo. I like to say that I know the city of Oslo like the back of my hand, but I don’t, I know it averagely, every summer I discover something new about the city(mostly cuz I wasn’t looking for it the previous summer). I speak, read and write the language; to me my first language would be Norwegian. It’s the only language (aside from English) that I know the grammatical rules to; I’ve been speaking it since the first day of kinder garden. I know the culture, I know the people. I’ve always identified myself with being Norwegian, sure there are some things I technically can’t do cuz of the religion I was raised in, but hat never really mattered. I was still Norwegian. I was raised there so I must be.

But according to definition number 2 and my dark skin I would have to be Pakistani. My parents are originally from Pakistan, so obviously, no matter how Norwegian I feel, I’m always going to look like I’m not from the country of Vikings. But here is my issue with this definition. Though I have no trouble saying I am Pakistani, and I grew up speaking Urdu at home and was raised on Pakistani cuisine since my mother took me off mother’s milk. I have no affiliation with the country. I’ve never lived there nor do I ever plan on living there. My parents left 26 years ago and as far as I know they have no plans of returning either. So am I Pakistani by definition? Can I call myself a citizen of a country I’ve only visited 5 times in my life (never more than three weeks) and whose citizenship I’ve never even held? Personally I don’t think so. Though I’m fluent in the language, and my family is from there I have no connection to this country. But if we’re going by this definition then my parents aren’t Pakistani as their parents were all (4) born in the India portion of the empire of India (before the partition in 1947) making them Indian and me by default also Indian. Now I don’t have a problem being Indian, none what so ever (I can’t say the same about my parents and/or grandparents) but the definition opens up for an endless discussion about the origin of man, which is, to be honest, not only tiring but also pointless.

So I move toward the last definition number 3. Now this is the concluding reason as to why people might think of me as a liar. You see I was born at St. James’ hospital in the city of Dublin in March 1986. My parents were living here as students, my mother had travelled in her 8th month of pregnancy, from Pakistan, and joined my father as he was taking some courses at rcsi. My parents lived in a tini tiny little bedsit on south circular road for the next 3 month after I was born. After a couple of months in Scotland my parents moved to the cold country of Norway and have made their home there ever since.

This would be the reason why I hold an Irish citizenship, but don’t really have a relationship to Ireland otherwise. Up until the age of 23 I hadn’t stepped foot in Ireland since my birth, and last year I moved here for my studies. Though my classmates might call me Irish for the hell of it and pretend that that I am one of them, other than the citizenship, again there is no relationship to the country. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love it here. I love the people, I love the atmosphere. But at the end of the day I don’t see myself staying here for the rest of my life, even if I do have a citizenship.

And then over to the second part of why people perceive me as a liar.

I’ve always be honest about where I’m from. When people ask me I say “Norway” I flip my hair, flutter my eyes and say “can’t you tell by my blonde hair and blue eyes” obviously, there is a hint of sarcasm in there, but I always say it with a smile. The problem is the accent I say it in. I happen to have a very American accent and because of this I’ve been time and time again accused of being a liar. I’ve been told I have a hint of Canadian in my accent. I’ve been accused of lying (about being from Norway) and actually being from California. And time and time ageing I’ve been told that I can’t be anything other than American. Which, again, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind. I have no problem with people thinking I’m Indian, American, Irish, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, and Norwegian. It really doesn’t matter where people think I’m from. Problem is that when I tell them, they think I’m lying :(

for the love of all music!!

When the realization of not doing anything or going anywhere for the summer of 2009 kicked in I realized that I had to make the most of the summer spent at home in Norway. Sure I was spending the summer working (as I always do) and the impending visit of my grandmother, who had never been to Norway before, was super exciting. But I wanted a different experience. So when I heard Neil young, nick cave, Duffy and keane were coming to the Norwegian wood music festival. I put my words into action.

Norwegian wood is an annual music festival held in the heart of Oslo every year for the past 20 years. Named after the Beatle song it attracts almost 8000 people (per day) a year.

Tickets for the event(s) aren’t the cheapest, the cheapest I’ve seen were 500 Norwegian kr, and that wasn't even for the more known acts performing during the concert. So I found a way for me to see the concerts for free, how? You might ask. well you see the Norwegian wood festivals is put together first and foremost but the students at Oslo university, and second as they try to spend as little money as possible on the workers and more bringing in the best acts ever, the employ volunteer labor, from all the teeny boppers, hipsters and cool kids in Oslo. And in return they get free passes, which is a great way of earning your ticket.

Now this summer I had the privilege of working 4 out of 5 days at Norwegian wood. For me it wasn’t just a return to the festival I’ve been volunteering and attending for the past three years, but also the chance to see some of the greatest acts EVER.

The roster for this year included the legendary Eric Clapton, Patti Smith, Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band and the always delightful Eagles. The experience of watching all those "old-times" was one of the greatest I’ve ever had in my life.

Watching Clapton play a 6 string, singing about his best friend’s girl and how he's slowly but steadily falling for her, is something I’m going to remember for the rest of my life. I mean when else am I ever going to see one of the yardbirds rock out about cocaine and him telling me that I look wonderful tonight: P

Eric Clapton has been playing guitar since the age of 15 and been performing since 1962. At the age of 66 he is still rocking out. One would have no idea that this ultimate legend is pushing 70, the way he played that six string.

The evening with Clapton (and 7999 others) was one of the most magical evenings I’ve ever had in my life. And it didn’t even cost me a dime: D

My first (self)published book!!!

i always thought i would write a novel or a collection of really sappy shortstories, or a collection of articles i had written as my first published anything. but what do you know, life has other things in mind.

Shadow Dancing by Rushda Syed | Make Your Own Book

Showing School Spirit!!

On Wednesday march 2nd, the DBS men basketball team played the team from Cork Institute of Technology at the Irish Colleges Basketball League division 2 all-Ireland finals at the National Basketball Arena in Tallaght. It would be easy to give you a play by play of what happened during the game, who played, who’s defense was stronger and who had a better offence or who made the winning shot or whether or not the game was decided on the buzzer. 

It would be easy for those who were actually present.

The road down to Tallaght is long, and getting to the national basketball arena is no easy feat, even by public transportation, which is why DBS College arranged for a bus to leave from the Aungier street building. For those students who actually made the bus, it left at 100 a.m. for those who didn’t make it, rumor had it that the 65b bus was the one that would get you as near as you could get (from O’Connell street.

Because of a class trip scheduled at 1015 on the morning of the same Wednesday, a couple of students decided that to catch the game, they would make their own way down to Tallaght, after their excursion was over.

After enquiring with 5 different bus drivers, the common consensus was that the 65b truly was the bus to get down to Tallaght, the bus driver even went as far to say t hat he would let them know when to get off. The two students were, according to their own calculations, somewhat late. They got on the 65b around 1215(15 minutes after the game in Tallaght had already started) and spent the next 45-50 minutes riding through the suburbs of south Dublin wondering whether they would make the game or not.

When the bus approached the arena, the driver let the students know that their stop was near, and the students got off and began walking in the direction the driver had told them that the arena would be. The walk it turned out wasn’t an easy one, as it involved walking around large estates, and the “driveway” up to the Arena, in heels. They spent a very long time, what seemed like an eternity, only to show up at the back of the arena, which looked completely abandoned. Not losing faith, one of the suggested they try checking out the other side, and walk around the building.

There they saw, what can only be described as a sight for sore feet. The main entrance of the arena was packed with other students holding DBS supporter flags. The time was around half one and they could conclude that the there was a big chance that they might, just might have missed the game. They had already agreed that in ANY CASE they would not be walking back to the bus stop, but hitch a ride back on the Bus that the college had provided. After having confirmed that the match indeed was over and learned the outcome of the game, the two got on the bus and let their feet rest. Their getting on the bus may or may not have resulted in half the team having to take a taxi back. However the new reigning 2^nd division champions looked like they would handle that just fine.

by Rushda Syed & Rob Kearney

NEW SHOES BABY

If it's Ireland you're calling, the country is not available at the moment, please try again when the snow has cleared!

Growing up in Scandinavia one learns a thing or two. One of them is to deal with snow. Last winter I can distinctly remember being hip deep in snow. I mean it was hard to walk AT ALL. And those of you who know me, I am a big BAD ASS with the snowplough. 24 winters spent in Norway and I NEVER had a snowday. I think once the school had to be shut down because the temperature in the classroom was ridiculously low, but never an actual snowday.

 Anyway. It started snowing here on Friday, and no one actually ploughed it, and it kept snowing throughout the weekend. Monday and Tuesday past, and here we are at Wednesday, and I know what you’re thinking “really it’s snowing non-stop?” no it isn’t there are intervals of it, “wow with that many days of snow it has to be seriously deep, right?” no it isn’t even two inches deep.  Now you ask “what the hell is the big deal?” I will tell you. Apparently 2 inched of snow is a VERY big deal. It’s enough for busses to stop running, it’s enough to make shops keep closed because the shop managers can’t get in, and it’s enough to shut down the college. Granted my college is only closed till noon tomorrow, but still. And I know it sounds somewhat pretentious. I mean here I am, all used to ploughed streets and the fact that no amount of snow can shut down the schools in Norway, but for me this is ASTONASHING!!!!

Apparently Ireland has never really had snow in November. They don’t have winter tires (that  come on in October 15^th in Norway btw) no chains on the busses, and 2 inches of snow make the airport shut down. But hey I get a snowday for the first time in my life. I’m actually not complaining. Just sharing :P

MADtv's Stuart

I had forgotten about Stuart!!
But here is a reminder for EVERYONE!!