Driving License

Maria gets her D/L in Toronto.
Watch out for Road Rage!

MARIA @18

Happy 18^th Maria

The road has been long,

For eighteen years now.

We've braved the weather,

And together we plough.

You're on your high way

To seek greener pastures.

In hope we wait,

For what the future nurtures.

Although we miss you,

So many times.

We know you'll make it,

And come back with smiles.

Happy Eighteenth Birthday Marie Girl

God Bless You!

Big Dad, Big Mum, Mum, Nadia, Abdullah & AbdulQadir

Sep 22 2012, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

60 YEARS

Sixty Years

Some people say a nation is made outa minds
The Third World’s made outa some strange kinds
Muscle and Blood and Financial Woes
A land full of meek and a Government full of foes

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

We were born in this land with hope for a life
We toiled all day and struggled with strife
Though sixty fine years have come and gone
The big bosses kids, they think nothings wrong.

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

We were raised in this land in sun and rain
Fightin' and trouble are our middle names
Corruption and power have enveloped he sand
There’s no hope for us except to sing with the band

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

If you see the writing you better take it in stride
A lotta men didn't, a lotta men died
An Elephant on crutches, the Hand of Evil
If the right one don't a-get you
Then the left one will

You spend sixty years, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Oh God don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I’m waiting for the Brits to come back for more

[apologies to Mr. Tennessee Ernie Ford]

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 16, 2008

ABDULLAH

Happy 12^th Birthday, Abdullah, my Wonderful, one and only, Grandson

Each and every morning, I am going to smile when I see your face, and laugh when I feel like crying.

Each and every morning, I will let you choose what you want to wear, and smile, and say how perfect you are.

Each and every morning, I will wait while you tie your shoelaces and get dressed for the day, without complaining.

Each and every morning, I am going to wish you goodbye as you get off the car and cross the street to get to school.

Each and every afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and shut my office computer down, so that I can call you home to see if you are back and doing alright.

Each and every afternoon, I will think about what a wonderful and successful man you will grow up to be, someday in the future.

Each and every afternoon, I won't worry about how you are going to complete your homework cos I know you will have it done it before nightfall.

Each and every evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born, how we raised you, and how much I love you.

Each and every evening, I will spend my time chatting beside you for hours, and miss my favorite news TV programs.

Each and every evening when I run my fingers through your hair, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift that I have ever wanted.

Each and every weekend, I will let you splash in the bathtub and let the floor get wet and still not get angry.

Each and every weekend, I will take you to your favorite restaurant and let you have your favorite fried rice, shrimps, crabs or lobsters to your hearts desire.

And when I kiss you goodnight I will hold you a little tighter, a little longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask him for nothing, except just one more day with you, for me… just one more day

Big Dad – Riyadh March 25, 2009

CRICKET FEVER

Cricket Fever

That shattering crack of willow on leather
crowds roaring hither and thither,
the boys in blue, gold, and black
sprinting far ahead of the pack

The batsmen walk and take their stance
the bowlers pounding in a trance.
Colts screaming, Mustangs roar,

Lovely ladies, fashions galore.

Another great moment is at hand,

Old boys arriving from far-off lands.

In shorts and caps and hats ablaze,

Flags and rattles, it’s the weekend craze.

And the ball doth fly across the grass,

Fielders scrambling, one big morass.

Umpires waving, fingers and hands

Its cricket fever, lets strike up the band.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Mar 13, 2009

MUMMY

Mummy

There were those times,

when I remember;

how she used to read to me.

Bedtime stories at night,

so I could linger,

and fall soundly asleep.

And then she would,

sometimes,

talk about herself,

and she would say,

that her life was sad and quiet,

filled with patient moments.

The joy of having us,

yet, the sorrow of being lonely.

And we used to play cricket

straight home from school,

she would yell out her heart,

to come inside.

And wash ourselves.

Have some biscuits and tea,

and spend time on homework.

Then, if we did get angry,

and say something nasty,

she would still keep cool,

and talk about other things,

that faced us tomorrow;

And we would make her laugh.

Her life of course, as we know

has not been quite as peaceful

as she would have wished;

And when I gaze upon

our present days,

with moments of memories

from those times;

it seems like a wall

with graffitti all over,

and some patches of white

where the paint has still not smeared;

The dust on the streets,

the hoot of the owl,

a bat flutters over,

while a double decker bus,

passes and screeches.

It still seems so beautiful,

the times we then shared;

Back home at Bamba, with Mummy.

There are those moments

I cannot forget.

Like raindrops on the grass,

butterflies on the flowers,

the cukoo always wailing;

Shades of blue skies

in colors and hues,

evenings of fragrance

wafting across the roofs.

While I listened to music

and sang in the bath,

the sound of running water

watering the plants.

And those luscious ripe fruits

that hung so low,

that we relished so sweetly,

while life unrolled swiftly.

We’ve come thus far,

and shes hit the nineties.

Is it that short,

to have lived and loved?

The end will surely come,

death will kick open doors.

While we wait in silence

and surely, so does she,

with the same patience,

she used to show us then.

I wish I find the time,

to see her once more,

so I can tell her again,

that I am so thankful;

And how much I love her,

for her every single way.

The only single one,

who loved us most of all,

seeking no return;

No, nothing at all.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 28, 2009

BAMBA

Bamba

Once, there was a town,

Where we used to roam;

Through the straight and narrows,

Romping all the way home;

Skimming the beach sands,

Across Railway Lines;

Putting bat to ball,

On every street defined;

Ringing on every doorbell,

Scamping down the Streets;

Frolicking in the Sunshine,

Dripping in rainy beats;

The patter of small feet,

Those days were filled with smiles;

A child’s delightful retreat,

We’ve walked a million miles.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Feb 25, 2009