shawgaar 4



     I am not happy with the style of my writing, though I don't expect to write as good as a columnist of the Guardian !

     I wonder whether I can choose an exact subject for my blog and eventually focus on the particular way of writing, e.g writing about the feeling of being living abroad and using the relevant vocabularies, just for a while. Then I can change the subject to the another. The aim would be to work on the variety of subjects, to persuade myself writing regularly and to get used to write in English.

     Being a bit busier than usual didn't give me enough time to write.I will try the different ways to discover the joy of writing in English, not only to pass a kiddy exam in the end of my course but also to build up my confidence when I am living in the territory of English !

Hyde Park



    

shawgaar 3

     It's about six  in the evening.The telephone rings and a number appears on the screen which shows someone is calling from Iran.Easy to recognise the number, my uncle's, who is about sixty-five and retired in 90s.I stare at the phone as I'm speaking to my guest and trying to keep on the conversation without interruption.He suggests me to answer the phone, I refused.

     Soon after, some nostalgic memories begin to flow in my thoughts,remembering a period of two month time when I was staying with my uncle in another city, pretending making up my failure in the school's exam, but I didn't properly.

     From the very first day I arrived the city, I started to discover all the interesting places, parks with playgrounds,cinema,bookshops and cafes. My uncle was treating me with utmost kindness. He offered me some money which seemed a lot to me.I spent all the money in two or three  days and then I realised it was my packet money for a week !

      I didn't practise my lesson but I found some friends,a shopkeeper who was telling old stories about the city when I was drinking my Pepsi sitting on a dirty stool in his shop. A young smart man working at a small shop who I thought he was a writer or a poet,he wasn't actually but I enjoyed his talking on contemporary literatrue.

     I was looking for a valid card phone on the table to call my uncle back when he rang again and I answered. He was trying to speak loudly and pleasant, I tried to play the same .It was Yalda,the longest night in the year and people celebrate as a custom.My uncle was teasing the celebration of Yalda as he used to do with many other traditional ceremonies.He is a kind of person who has lived between his traditional view of life and the reality of the change for ages.

     He asked me if I return home soon and I said yes, in the next a few months.Then, I thought that I had missed him so much.

    

     I haven't  seen my uncle for about five years.

    

shawgaar 2



      I was so tired yesterday. I went so many places, I discovered a book shop with the prices less than a half, spent some money and came home hungry and cold.I ate the food which was left from the night before and went to the coach station to take my guest home.

     My friend has been surprised by the size of the place I live in. I realised he was trying to be polite but he doesn't know that I am a real dreamer ; there is a huge endless fantastic world in my mind which I try to place it in this little room, next to my bed, beside the books.

    I was supposed to start reading the third chapter of Kureishi's book, My Ear At His Heart, but it was to late.I talked to my guest about the book and its writer and he said that he had read something about the author.

    I am going to bed late, very late, same as usual.

shawgaar 1


 I went to Hyde Park yesterday. I walked for an hour and took pictures (I love my mobile phone ! ) It was an amazing scenery of  the Winter.I will share the pictures on the blog when a fault in my computer is resolved.

      I started my Sunday with Radio BBC 4. There was an interesting broadcast about black Muslim communities in London. The broadcaster was speaking to different members of Muslim community, concentrating on black Muslims. I had missed the first minutes of the programme but for the rest , I could clearly acknowledge the main debate : What is the most important issue for a black Muslim ? Identification or Faith ? I liked one of the questions in the programme, asking why the blacks needed to have a separate mosque when Islam claims in the religion, the colour really doesn't matter !? Since I have started asking about the class I am belonging to in The UK, I follow anything around minorities, even religious minorities, the field I have always ignored deliberately.

     Tomorrow a friend of mine coming to see me from Sheffield.A gentleman who I know him since 2007. He was my bilingual dictionary when we were working in a Turkish take-away and we had a very very funny time because of a silly boss we had. The take-away owner was so greedy and doing stupid things to cheat customers and to make money, but his plans usually ended up with trouble or complaint from the customers.Still I remember a night when his lovely daughter,age 5 , was crying for a small pizza that he didn't want to give her and asking her to try Donner Kebab !!! Then I decided to order a small pizza for her from another shop ! Three years passed by, we are still sharing some funny memories of those days.

      Today I was thinking of something to buy,giving to my friend as a present.I didn't find anything in the biggest shopping centre in the city (!!) but I'll try my favourite store,Tk max, tomorrow,something good and nice and  cheap  ... and ... cheaper, when you pay for a present !

??!! What's Wrong

     Well ... ! I need to explain about the plan I have for the next two weeks , or maybe I have to admit making a conspiracy for the Christmas and new year's holiday.


     There are numbers of my friends who haven't been told about the existence of shawgaar.I visit them often,we call each other several times a month. Some of them like A , talk to me almost every day but he doesn't know that I am a blogger . Now I have invited more friends to read my posts and to leave their comments , if they wish to !


      Instead writing two or three essays on the usual subjects, I think it's better to write my daily notes here on my blog, reporting my every day's life during the holiday.My idea is to write short and briefly -hopefully- but could be longer depending on the case.


     So what !??  Nothing really serious.I am just testing my writing, wondering if there is a tiny little hope in writing English or not !


     AND .. to examine the transparency of my privacy !!!! Is it possible for me to talk openly to the people who are completely strangers ?! Where is the exact line which is the border between public and private life ? Why I need to have more readers, more audience ?! Is it necessary to do such a silly project ?!

      I am not sure about these philosophy questions but, I am sure I will learn some new vocabularies,a few phrasal words and some idioms at least, I'll be convinced that I have done what I was thinking about on last Wednesday !

to dive in



     I need to write in English for a while. It is not only for practising my writing but also for the need I think I have to express myself in a different language.

     Tonight I was thinking of the only single luck I have had in my entire life.I mean the ability of speaking my mother language alongside another language from an early age.When I must describe something difficult and I feel I'm short of the words, then I take refuge in my second language, seeking for the right vocabularies.

     It sounds baostfull maybe,but I think I could easily learn some more languages if I had enough time in recent years.I think I had talent to learn at least another two languages ; French and Spanish - now, everything has been changed .I am not certain about none of them plus English !

     However , the only thing I really enjoy at the moment, is to learn English properly, dive in for hours an weeks and months, untill I am satisfied.My goal is to read the novel next to my computer, whithout looking up the words on my dictionary hidden under the newspaper.

 

    

     

something just sad

     We are about to say goodbye to 2010 and wishing all the best for the year ahead.The college is going to be closed from the next week and I am a bit nervous, same as usual , at this particular time !

    

     I don't know why every year, few days just before the new year I feel so sad, so sorrowful, as if I am going to a funeral. I feel like going to bury a small lovely wounded bird when its heart still is beating... but you know it is going to die soon and you have no choice but to put it in a grave and stay in the grief for several days. ( This is one of the earliest memories of my childhood.I used to keep it as a secret, pretending I was a Man and I had to cope with those merciless incidents. I had wounded the bird and then needed doing something to make up  for the crime I committed ; a punishment ! )

     I knew quite lots of people who don't feel happy in the beginning of the new year, especially people living in the place where I used to live.We grew up in war and violence, in poverty and mercilessness. Although we had the great expectations and fantastic daydreams, all the moments of our dreams was covered by the grey collor of the sorrow.

     I know... and I am really sorry...! This is not an appropriate note for greeting a new year, but this is the only room where I can speak in freely.I try to talk to my readers directly, as well as to myself, to feel relieved  when I finished writing.This is the dark side of the writing,harmful for our readers but a great relief for us.

     But I am sure we are going to feel better as the time goes by, The future is bright and our beloved children will touch the beauty of the new year and we won't remember all these years we walked through in the dark.

     

بریتانیای کبیر

     گاهی فکر می کنم اینجا، بریتانیا، آخرین نقطه ای روی کره ی زمین است که آدم بخواهد دست آخر جل و پلاسش را در آن پهن کند. کنگر بخورد و لنگر بیندازد. جایی که بهترین و بدترین موجودات زمین کنار هم زندگی می کنند و بعید است کسی بتواند به راحتی دیگری را گاز بگیرد !
     شباهت زیادی با کشتی نوح دارد.با این تفاوت که ما نمی دانیم در ماجرای طوفان نوح، وقتی همه ی آن مخلوقات عجیب و غریب توی کشتی کنار هم بودند،چه اتفاقاتی افتاد!؟ آیا هیچ درگیری خاصی بین آنها پیش نیامد؟! کسی به دیگری حمله نکرد؟! کسی سهم بقیه را بالا نکشید؟! تا آنجا که خاطرم هست، توی داستان نوح هیچ درگیری و دعوایی گزارش نشده است.
    
    

...

        مدت هاست با خودم قول و قرار پنهانی بسته ام، اینکه به هیچ چیزی خودم را عادت ندهم.حتی اگر چیز خوبی باشد. منظورم از رفتارهایی است که که در زندگی روزمره مانند یک بیماری روانی آنقدر تکرار می شود که در غیاب آنها آدم احساس می کند چیز مهمی را گم کرده است،اشتباه بزرگی مرتکب شده و برای جبرانش بی قراری می کند.


      سیگار کشیدن،تلویزیون نگاه کردن، ده دوازده تا لیوان بزرگ چای خوردن و از همه بدتر،نشستن پای اینترنت و چند تا سایت تکراری را دوره کردن، نمونه ای از آن رفتار های بیمارگونه است که تا حدی توانسته ام با آنها مبارزه کنم.بعد از کنار گذاشتن سیگار-یکی از شاهکارهای زندگیم- تلویزیون را هم حذف کرده ام. تلویزیون،اجازه نمی دهد چیزی را که واقعا دوست داری انتخاب کنی.همه چیز را خوب و بد به خورد آدم می دهد.بعد،آدم را به نشستن جلوی همه ی آن آت و آشغال ها معتاد می کند.استفاده از اینتر نت را برای تماشای برنامه های تلویزیونی ترجیح می دهم.مخصوصا یوتیوب که ایده ی بسیار خوبی برای جایگزینی تلویزیون است.با چندین هزار برنامه که در انتخاب آنها محدودیتی وجود ندارد.


     این دو سه روزه که خط اینترنت مشکل پیدا کرده و مرتب قطع و وصل می شود،تازه فهمیده ام خیلی شدید به اینترنت عادت کرده بودم.در نبودش سرگیجه می گرفتم و نمی دانستم به کجا بروم، چه دری را بکوبم،چه خاکی به سرم بریزم...!!؟؟ امروز به کافی نتی همین نزدیکی ها رفتم.باید فرمی را آنلاین پر می کردم.در راه داشتم خودم را فریب می دادم که کار و بارم بدون اینترنت نمی گذرد،در حالیکه بیشتر از نیم ساعت لازم نداشتم،دوساعت تمام نشستم پای اینترنت و طبق معمول سایت های دلخواهم را هر چند دقیقه یکبار نگاه می کردم.در آن چند دقیقه هیچ چیز خاصی به سایت اضافه نمی شد.


     به کتابهایم که در گوشه ی اتاق کز کرده اند،نگاه می کنم.خیلی هایشان را نخوانده ام.آخرین کتاب آذر نفیسی را ناتمام رها کرده ام. رمان کوچک حنیف قریشی مثل همیشه کنار سی دی ها در انتظار فرصت مناسبی برای خوانده شدن است. کتاب ناتالی گلدبرگ درباره ی نوشتن، بعد از آن مطالعه ی یک ساعته در پارک روبروی کتابفروشی، دیگر نه خوانده شده ، نه حتی لمس شده است. 


      خرابی اینترنت را به فال نیک می گیرم و می روم سراغ کتابها. در ضمن فرصتی دست داده است خودم را ازاین عادت بیمار گونه ی نشستن پای اینترنت خلاص کنم.

My Trilingual Life In The UK

     امروز ساعت ده صبح بیدار شدم.دیدم توی قفسه چای نمانده بود.مجبور شدم قهوه درست کنم، بدون شیر.شیری که توی یخچال بود تاریخ مصرفش گذشته بود.
     خبر ها را روی اینترنت چک کردم.به قول مجری پارازیت ،همه ی خبر ها  خبر بده...!
     یادم افتاد چند روزی بود به یکی از آهنگ های زیبای کوردی فکر می کردم که «عومه ر دزه یی » با آن صدای دلنشین خاطره انگیزش می خواند.تا وقتی که بیرون رفتم همان چند تا آهنگ مشهورش را پشت سر هم گوش دادم.
     در حالیکه گورانی «عو مه ر دزه یی» هنوز توی سرم داشت وول می خورد،سعی می کردم جمله هایی را به زبان انگلیسی در ذهنم ردیف کنم تا در ملاقاتی که داشتم از آنها استفاده کنم. برای در خواست کار به جایی رفته بودم که مدیرش را هنوز ندیده بودم و گفته بودند بعد از ظهر شنبه به فروشگاه می آید. 
      به فروشگاه که رسیدم،یکی از آن ژست های احمقانه را گرفتم که در اینجور شرایط لازم است از خودت نشان بدهی.انگار نه انگار شب قبلش دیر خوابیده ام،صبح با قهوه ی بدون شیر به ده تا خبر بد گوش داده ام و ساعتی هم پای چند ترانه نوستالوژیک کوردی نشسته ام.
    یکی از فروشنده ها مدیر را صدا کرد.مرد گنده ای با خوشرویی جلو آمد و من در نگاه اول حدس زدم با آن پوست سفید و موهای بور باید لهستانی یا روسی باشد.کمی که حرف زدیم،دیدم نیشش باز شد و به انگلیسی گفت فکر می کنم شما ایرانین باشید ! بله !! ایرانین هستم.
     ناگهان همه چیز صد و هشتاد درجه تغییر کرد.شروع کردیم به خوش و بش کردن و دری وری گفتن و چرت و پرت بافتن که ربط زیادی هم به درخواست کار من نداشت.من که کمی جوگیر هم شده بودم،کم مانده بود از روی پیشخوان بپرم رو ی سر و کولش.
   در پایان بدون اینکه نتیجه ی مشخصی دستگیرم شود قرار شد در یکی دو روز آینده رزومه ی کاری برایشان بفرستم.بیچاره هم کاره ای نبود.از لابلای حرف ها و پز دادن هایش فهمیدم که خودش هم کارش را با چنگ و دندان گرفته از دست ندهد.

     غروب که برگشتم،چند کلمه ی قشنگ و عاشقانه ی کوردی از ترانه ی عومه ر دزه یی،توی سرم هنوز می چرخیدند.این کلمه های رمانتیک و شاعرانه گاهی با فحش های بد فارسی برخورد می کردند که بعد از خواندن خبرهای صبح،در کله ام مانده بودند.اما با خودم انگلیسی فکر می کردم:
I'm starving...! I need to cut my hair...! I have to call home
      بعد متوجه شدم که مدت هاست دارم در یک روزمرگی سه زبانه زندگی می کنم،بدون اینکه واقعا متوجه شده باشم.بدون اینکه هیچکدام از این سه زبان را به درستی یاد گرفته باشم.