STORIES, STORIES

The Fairytale of Third Cinema by Kathryn Narciso a. Little Brown Americans We are nothing but them. When the ruling giant came to town, we didn’t break loose, and just sucked up the flavors of the new, almost forgetting the old. The nation’s elite was guilty of kissing the mestizos and language was shared tongue-to-tongue, skin-to-skin, until little brown Americans were born to this nation and grew up becoming second-class citizens of their own homeland. It was like allowing a thief inside your home: fed him when he’s hungry, gave him drink when he’s thirsty, warmed him up when he’s cold. Flesh and blood for spit. The cycle repeats itself, again and again: you offer your flesh for flesh, blood for blood, but you only get spit and still say Thank You. b. The Unholy Communion When Hollywood was preached outside its birthplace, the rest of the world took its chalice and drank from it. Not one has come clean after the communion. It’s a religion without confession. The converts were s...

Stories That (Probably) Need Telling by Nessreen I’m not gonna lie. I was reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s The Thing Around Your Neck , a collection of short stories about the experiences and thoughts of Nigerian women from different backgrounds, when I decided to finally, actually in-real-life-and-not-just-imagining-it , write the book I had been putting off for years now. There’s nothing more inspiring than reading a brilliant storyteller, but now I know that inspiration is one thing, and actually putting in the work is another (why do I know this only now ?). Obvi it wasn’t going to be easy, and I knew that off the bat. I have mediocre writing skills (I generally speak better than I write, I promise you), horrible writing habits, a glaring lack of writing accomplishments, and an inflated sense of grandeur, which all meant that tackling this mountain that is writing a book is exactly the kind of thing I would go for. And so here we are. In 2013, I left Saudi Arab...

On Podcasts by Khayra Bundakji I ’ m not sure why or how it happened, but music never was a part of my life like it was for my peers. Whenever anyone would offer to the conversation how moved a song made them, it just wouldn ’ t register. Much like boys, much like makeup, much like fashion, it was yet another socially ostracising quirk of mine to not connect with or remember lyrics of music. Then one day, on my daily 45-minute commute to university, I discovered NPR. Terry Gross from Fresh Air , Ira Flato from Science Friday , and the gang from GeekSpeak added a dimension to my grayscale Saudi life I didn ’ t realise I lacked. This was before I had friends to discuss science or pop culture. Finding radio shows that felt I was amongst friends reunited me with a piece of my heart I didn ’ t know existed.     Once I gluttonously got through international podcasts, I desperately searched for something that would speak to me. Something, say, in Jeddah. Leading me ...

Making (Radio?) Waves by Nessreen It’s Sunday, the sun is shining painfully bright through my window and falls right on my bed, where I have thrown my laundry. I’m sorting through my clothes thousands of miles away from Jeddah, here in Petaling Jaya, Malaysia, and I’m laughing into a freshly laundered shirt.  Listening to The Low Priority Que (The LPQ).  “And where the hell was Ghost this whole time?” Hakeem says, outraged, in the middle of a discussion about -SPOILER- Jon Snow’s demise on Game of Thrones. “Sam gets in a minor scuffle and mashallah Ghost is there to save him, but while his master was getting shanked by his own people, where was this Ghost direwolf?”  “He was probably up there on the wall, heard Jon Snow was in trouble, looked around and thought, Uff meshwar ,” says Tamim .  Well, never mind that I bungled the transcription of that sound clip (you can listen to it yourself and point out where I made mistakes right here ), and never min...

Writing Triggers by Alia Makki Tell me again. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?  You mean writing?   Haven’t you already gotten it figured out by now that at the end of the tunnel, it doesn’t get any brighter or easier? Life doesn’t get easier. Writing distracts you from looking at yourself personally. Why should you write?  Because it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. And this scene! Look at it! How could we not be inspired…   Hasn’t it failed you already? Why couldn’t you take a hint from the millionth failure?  Because the million-first might be the one!   Bosh. Sorry, who?   Pshawh. Shucks. Bollocks. Bull. I’m calling your disgusting sense of optimism a delusion.  Oooh. That’s a nice word too. What just happened? Was it a mosquito that landed on your face? Then why did you hit your face for? Listen. My job was to try to distract you from this futile habit of yours. I’ve done my job and could only manage ...

Notes on Running by Nessreen I hate running.  I mislike all the things about it. The hard work, the mental anguish, the physical exertion, all the emotional pummelling you get when you hit the track. It’s way more than just running  to me, it's a constant test.  When I run, every part of me is fighting to go against all my natural tendencies of laziness and at-rest spoiled-brattery.  And I suppose that’s what made me take it on. Because I’m nothing if not the kind of person who only knows to excel under extreme, oppressive conditions, whether or not I conjured them myself. I revel in this oppression, and it makes the end of each run for me all the more glorious. When I’m in a yucky pile of sweat and dirt and sometimes tears, and I play back the distance and speed I’d just covered, without fail – I feel fascinated at how much I could endure . How much of something I hate I could endure just to reach a goal that no one but myself cares abo...

Still on the Band by Chukwudi Barrah Seeing a post recently about the Microsoft Band being the best fitness band you never heard about reminded me that I was going to write a review—or rather ended my procrastination in writing a review—about the Band. I've owned mine for five months, paired primarily with my iPhone 6 plus. In that time I have come to the conclusion that the combination of both devices do not meet the requirements for which they were purchased. In essence, I need to change one of these devices. I know, first world problems, right? Not really. The essence of exchanging hard-earned money for electronic devices—or anything, ever—is to derive some sort of satisfaction from those things, and so far my satisfaction has been relatively low (at least compared with my expectations). Again, I know the argument is that experiences are lower than expectations. I'd argue that that is the case if the expectations are set unreasonably high. In my case, I don'...