Blogs

As I reflect on the remarkable progress made by CAI thus far, it is important, I think, to look back and reflect on how it all began, the path we have trodden, where we now are and how to chart out the future. So I will share this Blog with you, first written in 1996,…

The baraaza area outside HIC in Sanford wears a forlorn look, the cold and wind making it uncomfortable to socialize. Usually it is busy with people chatting, smoking or smacking lips (or spitting) with Mehboob’s paans; the rising smoke from beedis, cigarettes (regular and the modern E) reminding me of choma kuku dhabas around the…

Mullah Mchungu is preparing to return to Dar es Salaam tomorrow so has dropped by home to say goodbye. He says he’s not sure if I’ll see him again because he feels the angel of death is paying him real close attention. I laugh away, thinking the old man is jesting but the Mullah’s face…

Cranky and groggy, I appear before the Etihad check-in counter at Mumbai International Airport at 2AM for my flight to Abu Dhabi, connecting to Dallas, TX. The middle-aged woman in a sari with a bulging midriff sharply draws breath through very white dentures and flashes them at me. ‘Sorry Sir, the flight is cancelled. Heavy…

I clear immigration at Dhaka airport and head towards the domestic airport, a short distance away. An armed policeman, a kid really, stops me and asks for my passport in Bangla; I give it to him. His face lights up. Ah, American hay? He says in broken English. Very nice. Where are you headed? Chittagong.…

It seems Mullah Mchungu has had a turbulent childhood and adolescent. That upbringing, and the fact he is celebrating his seventy-eighth birthday today, has put him in an even grumpier mood than usual. He is in Sanford once more, on his biannual visit to see his only son and grandchildren, who he adores and daughter-in-law…

Once upon a time, some twenty-three years ago, in a place called Bombay (then), in a squalor camp outside the city called Govendhi, in a tiny shack consisting of a single room made of corrugated tin sheets for walls and roof, a frail girl child was born to a middle aged couple; let us call…

After an exhausting nine-day trip in Afghanistan, I am in India. Although my body yearns for some downtime after the drubbing from the Afghan trip, I find no respite. Aliakberbhai, who was with me in Afghanistan seems fine; the man can work like a horse and still be able to operate on less than three…

I am in Mumbai, in the middle of my current trip, taking me to four countries and several worldwide cities and villages. To Dubai and Mumbai and New Delhi and Kabul and Yawkawlang and Sacheck and Punjab and Lego and Oozmuk and Nilli and Dayaroos, back to Kabul, on to New Delhi again and Sirsi…

Dr. Mosin Jaffer from Miami is visiting us here in Sanford and giving a lecture on good health. It is early Sunday morning, just after fajr salaat, at the Sanford Husseini Islamic Center. Instead of the regular Quraan tafseer after the salaat, we get to hear Dr. Jaffer’s excellent and very useful exhortation on good…

We bid adieu to this special month; only a couple of days remain. Alhamd’Allah, most of the world was in agreement regarding the start of Ramadhan; I pray the same luck (and rational) prevails for Eid day. The annual debate, controversies, innuendos and general mayhem regarding the new Eid moon is becoming…well, kind of old.…

This Blog is long, depressing and several photos herein may not be palatable to some, so if you are not up to it, please press the delete button now. Otherwise, I hope you find it interesting and insightful about the Rohingya refugees of Burma, how they have been persecuted, tormented and abused, both by the…

My previous Blog, Snotty Delights, prompted whiney annoyance from some (Indian) readers, one calling me a 24/7 Indian critic, accusing me of visiting India at liberty and then making Indians look terrible. Sigh… I have said the following before and I will state it again: I love India, my ancestral home. It is a wonderful…

Now that I am getting on in age (still gives no one the right to call me uncle, chacha, mama or any other silly titles), I look back on malicious but memorial childhood actions that I much regret. These silly but hurtful activities, over forty-five plus years ago, shames and saddens me immensely. I am…