Showing posts with label Yorkshire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yorkshire. Show all posts

Thursday, 19 July 2012

A Pastoral View

Of late, a complete day of sunshine that has not been interrupted by the rain has been something of a rarity. I share, therefore some snaps that I took along the Leeds-Liverpool Canal when the sun shone beautifully and my world was at peace. Tranquil, idyllic and reminiscent of that pastoral view of Yorkshire that the county is known for.





 
Shot on my Samsung Galaxy S at Apperley Bridge.

Sunday, 4 March 2012

... On Being "British" ...

I feel like I am being forcibly drawn into a debate that whilst at the one end of my personal spectrum, I actually do care about, but feel much has been said and little done about, and on the other end of my spectrum, I don't give a monkeys over. It's as if I've reached an impasse - I'm secure in myself and I will do what I need to do, live the way that I need to live and all without apology.

The debate in question is this documentary and the suggestion is that, like many northern ex-industrial English cities, Bradford is in economic sink, unpopular and religiously and racially segregated. I hasten to add that whilst I have not yet seen the programme and have no real intention to see it any time soon, this is not the first time this has been said about the place. There's no denying it - the truth is, it feels like an abandoned place and polarisation is very real.

The documentary has as the local council PR people and the regional media in flaps - but something tells me that it is less the reality of racial division and more the fact that it is being discussed in a very public sphere that is ruffling feathers. Ostrich feathers, I may add, since for too long, there has been much denial and the only investment in the city has been mediocrity. That last trait is the one thing that post-Thatcherite Britain finds very difficult in accepting of itself.

The counter claim by the local PR machine is lifted from the text of the Emperors New Clothes. That is, to see what isn't there. The claim, that the city is a culturally diverse place (i.e. melas and curries) - is patronising, at best. This is not London or New York, nor Mumbai, Karachi or Singapore, not that any of those is perfect or has race and equality completely figured. The difference is those places represent something of a melting pot and offer new, emergent identities.

I also don't get what it is to be British. I've tried and not succeeded at understanding this. I don't think many of the 'natives' understand it any better, to be frank. Over the years, I have seen the same liberals and working professionals who claim to love the 'cultural diversity' of places like Bradford, join the white flight to the suburban and semi-rural outskirts, thus decreasing real contact with the immigrants who moved in. They are complicit in the racism. And they are the ones whom I really distrust. The PR people and the media, thus, can in my opinion, jolly well shut up.

Significant numbers of that first wave of Pakistani Kashmiri and Bengali immigrants to British cities lived as the dinosaurs did - completely ill-equipped for the changes that were about to happen next, and it was just as disappointing to see the Brits - at the forefront of cultural contact through the reach of their empire - assume a supposed cultural/moral/racial high ground and reject the opportunity of coexistence with migrants coming in. Neither process of adjustment would have been easy, but without 'white' sticking power, populations just drifted apart. It happens everywhere, not just Europe, but here one feels it so much more than other places. The British response has been worse because they've never truly confronted their own angst and overall, no-one sitting in local or national government has really helped. I thus qualify what I said about this topic in my first paragraph - disconnection keeps me out of the politics, and offers me protection. I live as I do, with my own sense of identity.

Saturday, 18 February 2012

Deep Freeze

A few pictures from the patch when the temperatures dropped to -15ºC. Taken using my Olympus SP800UZ.








Monday, 18 April 2011

Life's A Journey

We traverse through this life we are living as a gift from Allah. It is a journey for each of us - a unique and very personal journey; one that touches upon the paths our lives travel. No two paths are the same and each one of us is living a personal experience with our life. 

This year has had me and those that I love and care for shuttling back and forth between East and West, moving between time and cultural zones in order to bridge gaps, leaving a trail of experience behind us. Last week I was in Yorkshire, this week I am in Abu Dhabi.

I have sensed change for some time now, and whilst I have often thought it wiser to allow myself time to explore my innermost thoughts within the safe sphere of myself, invariably there comes a time when we begin to outwardly express our apprehensions and hopes. 

I know that in this journey of life, we press on. Much more I will not say now, except to return to that very first post that I made here in which I considered life to be a journey and myself to be a traveller on that journey. With every step may I be guided by Allah. Ameen. That is my deepest desire.

"To finish the moment, to find the journey's end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours is wisdom." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Saturday, 12 March 2011

Pakhtoon Schools Project

The Yorkshire and Lancashire textile and steel mills of the 1950s and 1960s saw a wave of immigration from the then newly independent Pakistan and India - lands once occupied by the British Empire. Those who lived through this time tell their own tales of racism, building cultural bridges, acceptance and an emerging post-war British identity. These were not easy times and the experiences have left their mark, but the story of Ramon Mohamed's father goes back further, to the small village of Toru near Mardan, Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa.

Pakhtoon Schools Project

Ramon's journey to find his roots has been chronicled on his website and his travels across Pakistan and Afghanistan have inspired in him a desire to fulfill a personal mission - that is to build a school overlooking his father's grave not far from the grounds of Abdul Wali Khan University, Mardan. Ramon has gained some publicity for raising awareness and the opportunity to work with Sheffield University who are supporting his efforts.

In a joined up world, people cross paths and here too, minds meet. Ramon's journey of discovery through life brought him to the UAE  a couple of weeks back when I hosted him. I was very fortunate to learn more about the man and his remarkable vision in our conversations together.

Ramon and I share some key commonality - both of us draw from our combined Pashtoon and Yorkshire influences, both of us are primary educationalists and both of us have a passion for the development of educational opportunities in the Pashtoon belt. We share the ideal of a peaceful, progressive people, literate in world-affairs, technology and Pashto language.

It would be right to consider Ramon Jan a friend. He is already a commentator on this blog and this photograph from a posting I made on a BBC news report about the destruction of schools in Afghanistan is one that comes from Ramon Jan himself whilst observing open-air schools in Nangarhar. All our journeys continue in whichever direction Allah has prescribed for us, but I hope to use this space periodically to share thoughts and update on the progress of the school projects.

For readers and visitors to this blog, do follow the link here to learn more.

Saturday, 14 August 2010

English Country Garden

I share a photo collage of stills taken from my very own English Garden. Photographs taken by using my Sony Exmor.

Monday, 26 July 2010

When A Leaf Falls ...

... it tumbles to it roots.
I have incredibly mixed feelings. For years, I have tried to define myself and here I am, at the doorstep of my past. I do miss my family, so it's good to be amongst their company. It's been two years since I was here so I guess I should honour this one with a verse.

Britannia!

When Britain first, at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:

"Rule, Britannia! Britannia rule the waves."
"Britons never will be slaves."

... erm, sure ...
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