haniya week
everybody's heard of Ismail Haniya, leader of Hamas, especially with the ongoing clashes between Hamas and Fatah all this week in our lovely nearby Gaza neighborhood. What anyone would give to meet the families of these famous terrorists, to find out what they are really like. I had just this sort of opportunity this past week as I am studying Islam and Middle East politics, here in the Holy Land. Coincidentally the Man of My Dreams has the same last name as the popular terrorist, Haniya. My initial concern was that they may be related, but i immediately dismissed it because of my deep longing for him, thinking it was probably a common Arab name. But it turns out his father is a famous Muslim Sheikh, Sheikh Kamal Haniya, whose brother is married to Ismail Haniya's sister. I found this out only through a wild series of exhilarating events which basically equated to jumping into a frying pan.
With my nose for research, and my passion for gorgeous 23-year-old Arab men, my dad instructed me "go and meet his family, and talk to his father" as the only legitimate way to know if I really wanted to marry this guy. I did a search last Sunday 10 June, and found this article on Kamal Haniya, Sheikh and natural healer, who is also known as a mediator or counselor, and his work with casting out Demons. Coincidentally, the article was written by someone with the last name Berman (my last name is Birman). I knew it was a sign from God and I started fasting, drinking water only for this entire week. I was dumbfounded by the article, thought him to be an amazing man, and set out to meet him at once. The next day I asked my professor if he knew him - he didn't but he connected me with someone who knew his oldest son. He set up an appointment for me to meet with his father the following evening, but told me I needed to bring a translator with me. A few minutes later one of my Arab friends appeared and volunteered to be the translator. It was on. I spent the following day in prayer and meditation as I continued my fast in anticipation of the meeting.
My translator and I rode in a taxi to the Bedouin village of Tel Sheva, where Sheikh Haniya and his family of 15 children live. I was prepared to tell my elaborate story of how I believed a certain evil Bedouin with a police record was possessed by demons and projecting them onto his son causing him to hate me for no reason (we hadn't really been talking for a few months because of this evil man's influence in his life). I had been devastated by this situation and could not figure out why the Man of My Dreams would stop talking to me, as I am quite a remarkable woman. Instead the meeting was more of Sheikh Haniya imparting his great wisdom (which was actually really great) and when I started to tell him the story he immediately recognized that the Bedouin guy was just a liar, and had lied to his son causing him to think falsely of me. I informed him at that time however that I wanted to marry his son and he began asking me all these personal questions, which I entertained. After the meeting my translator and I told his brother (who gave us a ride home) about the story and he offered to talk to him. The following day there was a lecture by his father in Arabic at the University, and I met a nice Bedouin girl who invited me to her village of Tel Sheva a few days later to translate the lecture (not knowing of me or my involvement with the Sheikh's son). The oldest son talked to his brother who told him to tell me that he was getting engaged to some random girl he met at a party so he didn't want to talk to me. I didn't believe this story as such acts are not standard within the Muslim community, and all of his friends had told me otherwise, so I continued on my course for adventure.
The following day I created a list of "life questions" I wanted to ask the Man of My Dreams before we were to get married, I would ask the same of any man. His friend was supposed to pick it up and deliver it to him but he did not, so I took advantage of my opportunity to go to the Bedouin girl's home coincidentally located in the same village of Tel Sheva. It was on the 6th day of my fasting that I entered their home and shared a meal with them to break my fast. During this meal I had a conversation with her sister, who was a good friend of Sheikh Haniya and his wife Nama. I instantly connected with her, and shared my story with her. She offered to help me as we believed God brought us together through all of these wonderful coincidences, and the ways in which my week of fasting led me to her. She convinced me to spend the night with them and we could go to the Haniyas home the next day. I was not prepared to spend the night but sleeping in my contact lenses was well worth it. She wrote a letter for me in Arabic to deliver to the Man of My Dreams' parents, explaining everything, which accompanied my list of questions for him. The letter told who I really was (not who the evil Bedouin had said I was) and basically that I was asking permission to marry their son.
Upon delivering the letter to their house I was met with some resistance by the mother. All the children gathered around me mesmerized. One of them snatched the letter and began reading it. I insisted (in my janky Arabic) that she read the letter, it was for HER. The kids seemed to understand what I was requesting and were eager to help. She refused to read it and was yelling at me in Arabic, something about hating Americans, which is when I instantly made the connection to the terrorist Haniya (who also hates Americans), and found out later in the day that they were directly related! Just then the Man of My Dreams appeared and intercepted the letters. He seemed irate so I asked him to read everything and then talk to me. He called me about 10 minutes later and said he would talk to me in a few hours. I think we had a total of 4 conversations today (in his fluent English with cracked-out accent), which is all I really wanted to do for the past 2 months. I reaffirmed my interest in marrying him over the SMS and that he should really think about his life and consider coming to America with me because of the opportunity and because there would be a war here soon. He told me I was crazy, that there would not be a war, and that he had a girlfriend (a Bedouin girl from the north, coincidentally the same village the aforementioned Evil Bedouin is from, who he met around the same time he stopped talking to me!). Sometimes it takes scenarios like these to remind me that most people get so locked up in their own little bubble and the influence of other people that they can no longer look at the world with an open mind, or the bigger picture of what life is really all about. (A) who in their right mind would NOT marry me (hello?), and (B) THERE IS GOING TO BE A WAR HERE SOON. Son of a Sheikh, you had your chance to get out of here, but the Haniya Way breeds TERROR which leads to DEATH.
With my nose for research, and my passion for gorgeous 23-year-old Arab men, my dad instructed me "go and meet his family, and talk to his father" as the only legitimate way to know if I really wanted to marry this guy. I did a search last Sunday 10 June, and found this article on Kamal Haniya, Sheikh and natural healer, who is also known as a mediator or counselor, and his work with casting out Demons. Coincidentally, the article was written by someone with the last name Berman (my last name is Birman). I knew it was a sign from God and I started fasting, drinking water only for this entire week. I was dumbfounded by the article, thought him to be an amazing man, and set out to meet him at once. The next day I asked my professor if he knew him - he didn't but he connected me with someone who knew his oldest son. He set up an appointment for me to meet with his father the following evening, but told me I needed to bring a translator with me. A few minutes later one of my Arab friends appeared and volunteered to be the translator. It was on. I spent the following day in prayer and meditation as I continued my fast in anticipation of the meeting.
My translator and I rode in a taxi to the Bedouin village of Tel Sheva, where Sheikh Haniya and his family of 15 children live. I was prepared to tell my elaborate story of how I believed a certain evil Bedouin with a police record was possessed by demons and projecting them onto his son causing him to hate me for no reason (we hadn't really been talking for a few months because of this evil man's influence in his life). I had been devastated by this situation and could not figure out why the Man of My Dreams would stop talking to me, as I am quite a remarkable woman. Instead the meeting was more of Sheikh Haniya imparting his great wisdom (which was actually really great) and when I started to tell him the story he immediately recognized that the Bedouin guy was just a liar, and had lied to his son causing him to think falsely of me. I informed him at that time however that I wanted to marry his son and he began asking me all these personal questions, which I entertained. After the meeting my translator and I told his brother (who gave us a ride home) about the story and he offered to talk to him. The following day there was a lecture by his father in Arabic at the University, and I met a nice Bedouin girl who invited me to her village of Tel Sheva a few days later to translate the lecture (not knowing of me or my involvement with the Sheikh's son). The oldest son talked to his brother who told him to tell me that he was getting engaged to some random girl he met at a party so he didn't want to talk to me. I didn't believe this story as such acts are not standard within the Muslim community, and all of his friends had told me otherwise, so I continued on my course for adventure.
The following day I created a list of "life questions" I wanted to ask the Man of My Dreams before we were to get married, I would ask the same of any man. His friend was supposed to pick it up and deliver it to him but he did not, so I took advantage of my opportunity to go to the Bedouin girl's home coincidentally located in the same village of Tel Sheva. It was on the 6th day of my fasting that I entered their home and shared a meal with them to break my fast. During this meal I had a conversation with her sister, who was a good friend of Sheikh Haniya and his wife Nama. I instantly connected with her, and shared my story with her. She offered to help me as we believed God brought us together through all of these wonderful coincidences, and the ways in which my week of fasting led me to her. She convinced me to spend the night with them and we could go to the Haniyas home the next day. I was not prepared to spend the night but sleeping in my contact lenses was well worth it. She wrote a letter for me in Arabic to deliver to the Man of My Dreams' parents, explaining everything, which accompanied my list of questions for him. The letter told who I really was (not who the evil Bedouin had said I was) and basically that I was asking permission to marry their son.
Upon delivering the letter to their house I was met with some resistance by the mother. All the children gathered around me mesmerized. One of them snatched the letter and began reading it. I insisted (in my janky Arabic) that she read the letter, it was for HER. The kids seemed to understand what I was requesting and were eager to help. She refused to read it and was yelling at me in Arabic, something about hating Americans, which is when I instantly made the connection to the terrorist Haniya (who also hates Americans), and found out later in the day that they were directly related! Just then the Man of My Dreams appeared and intercepted the letters. He seemed irate so I asked him to read everything and then talk to me. He called me about 10 minutes later and said he would talk to me in a few hours. I think we had a total of 4 conversations today (in his fluent English with cracked-out accent), which is all I really wanted to do for the past 2 months. I reaffirmed my interest in marrying him over the SMS and that he should really think about his life and consider coming to America with me because of the opportunity and because there would be a war here soon. He told me I was crazy, that there would not be a war, and that he had a girlfriend (a Bedouin girl from the north, coincidentally the same village the aforementioned Evil Bedouin is from, who he met around the same time he stopped talking to me!). Sometimes it takes scenarios like these to remind me that most people get so locked up in their own little bubble and the influence of other people that they can no longer look at the world with an open mind, or the bigger picture of what life is really all about. (A) who in their right mind would NOT marry me (hello?), and (B) THERE IS GOING TO BE A WAR HERE SOON. Son of a Sheikh, you had your chance to get out of here, but the Haniya Way breeds TERROR which leads to DEATH.
posted by :: Lisa :: at 11:30 AM
2 Comments:
HI, THERE IS GOING TO BE A WAR HERE SOON. That's precisely why I'm LEAVING! You are CRAZY woman, a WAR???
no way, not a war. not possible. Hamas in particular would not wage a war or anything of the sort. You MUST be crazy, woman. WTF it sounds like the guy has his head up his ass, no?
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