2:46:00 PM
MANYAUNYAU TIBA ASILIA
mambo duniani ayo tena
Showing posts with label Picha Na Maktaba yetu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Picha Na Maktaba yetu. Show all posts
Friday, June 3, 2011
Monday, November 15, 2010
ulinzi wakutosha apo
dr.manyaunyau ni kijana wakazi nani asie jua africa nzima wana tambua mchango wake kwa jamii ivo usije pata tatizo ukashidwa eleza ata kidongo kwani yeye ujivunia kipaji chake na iko kipaji pia nae amepewa na mungu na yeye basi ana budi kuwasaidia na wale wa sio nacho kumbu waenga usema mficha marazi basi umauti utamumbua kama ilipo tatizo basi mtumie japo imeli. nae atakujibu au sim yake ya kiganjani
Thursday, November 11, 2010
MAMBO AZARANI PALIKUWA APATOSHI
MAFUTA YA MOTO YATUMIKA KUMUOSHEA MTU ALIE PATA ASARI ZA KICHAWI NA
UMATI WA WATU WAFULIKA KUONA MAJABU YA DR.MANYAUNYAU AKITOSA MIKONO YAKE KWENYE MAFUTA YA MOTO BIRA YA KUUNGUA NI MAJABU YA MUSA AYO TENA SASA ABADILI STARHILI YA PAKA ATUMIA SAMAKI ILI KUWA MAZESE TUKIO ILI
Monday, October 11, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
ZETU, DUA BWANA?
TIBA BORA KULIKO KINGA?
Baada ya Dunia kufurai baada ya kusikia fununu za kupatika kwa KINGA ya ugonjwa wa UKIMWI, imefahamika tena kugundulika kwa Mafuta yenye dawa ambayo wanawake wanapaka kabla na baada ya 'GAME' na kupunguza uwezekano wa kupata ugonjwa huo kwani mchubuko unaosababishwa na vijidudu vya HSV-2 unakuwa sio rahisi kupatikana! Sasa mie najiuliza mpaka izo dawa za kinga zifike Bongo ni baada ya miaka mingapi? maana uko marekani wenyewe hawajaanza kuzipata itakuwa sisi uku wa dunia ya 3 looh
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
JICHO LAGU LEO
KARIBUNI KWENYE LIBENEKE LA DR.MANYAUNYAUNa Baraka MfunguoAfrika tuna utamaduni wetu ambao tumeurithi kutoka kwa mababu zetu. Mababu zetu waliishi kulingana na miiko iliyoendana na maadili kadiri ya wao walivyorithi kutoka kwa waliowatangulia. Katika hayo yapo mambo mengi kama vile jando na unyago, Utani,Ngoma za jadi, Utambaji wa hadithi za kale, Utabiri wa nyota nk nk. Katika hayo pia yapo matambiko mbalimbali yaliyotumika kuwaomba mizimu mambo mbalimbali endapo jamii itakuwa imekwenda kombo.Leo hii ukitembelea Tanzania waweza shuhudia maajabu ya kutisha mfano Msitu mkubwa wa Ngende uliopo mkoa wa Lindi, Hifadhi ya viboko ambao huombwa kupitia lugha za mizimu kabla ya kwenda kuwatembelea ili wasikudhuru hawa wako rufiji, Mapango ya Amboni Tanga, na eneo la Mashe mkoani Kilimanjaro. Pamoja na maeneo mbalimbali ambayo sikuyataja. Amini usiamini hii ndio Afrika.Hivi sasa yupo kijana mahiri ambaye amejitolea kupambana na nguvu za giza kupitia tiba asilia na mizimu anayeitwa Dr Manyaunyau natumaini watu wa mkoa wa Dar es Salaam wanamfahamu vizuri. Dr Manyaunyau ameanzisha libeneke lake ambalo anakwenda kukujuza yale ambayo yanatukia ili wewe msomaji pale ulipo ujue kwamba Waafrika bado tunatisha kwa ile teknolojia yetu ambayo hata mzungu haoni ndani. Kimsingi huu ni ujasiri mkubwa kwani kwa kufanya hivyo Dr Manyaunyau atakuwa amepanua wigo mkubwa wa watu kufahamu kazi zake, kujenga mahusiano mazuri, kuwasiliana, na kupanua biashara zake. Blogu hii inampongeza Dr Manyaunyau kwa uamuzi wake wa busara wa kuanzisha libeneke lake.Ikumbukwe miaka ile ya zamani alikuwepo mzee mmoja aliyeitwa Tekelo ambaye alikuwa anatisha katika fani hii ya kiafrika nami napenda kuifananisha staili hii na ya Dr Manyaunyau kiboko ya wachawi. Ninamtakia kazi njema Dr Manyaunyau pamoja na libeneke jema
Monday, July 12, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
MCHAWI MTOTO AKUTWA LIVE AKIFANYA MAMBO YAKE
Uchawi Uchawi aya tena biti mdogo heti nae yumo kwenye Uchawi amekutwa amenasa kwenye nyumba ya watu uko tabata shiba chupu chupu wamtoe roho polisi wa muokoa
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Wanawake wa kizungu wasilim kwa wing uingereza
It’s a controversial time for British women to be wearing the hijab, the basic Muslim headscarf. Last month, Belgium became the first European country to pass legislation to ban the burka (the most concealing of Islamic veils), calling it a “threat” to female dignity, while France looks poised to follow suit. In Italy earlier this month, a Muslim woman was fined €500 (£430) for wearing the Islamic veil outside a post office.
And yet, while less than 2 per cent of the population now attends a Church of England service every week, the number of female converts to Islam is on the rise. At the London Central Mosque in Regent’s Park, women account for roughly two thirds of the “New Muslims” who make their official declarations of faith there – and most of them are under the age of 30.
Conversion statistics are frustratingly patchy, but at the time of the 2001 Census, there were at least 30,000 British Muslim converts in the UK. According to Kevin Brice, of the Centre for Migration Policy Research, Swansea University, this number may now be closer to 50,000 – and the majority are women. “Basic analysis shows that increasing numbers of young, university-educated women in their twenties and thirties are converting to Islam,” confirms Brice.
“Our liberal, pluralistic 21st-century society means we can choose our careers, our politics – and we can pick and choose who we want to be spiritually,” explains Dr Mohammad S. Seddon, lecturer in Islamic Studies at the University of Chester. We’re in an era of the “religious supermarket”, he says.
·
Joanne Bailey
Solicitor, 30, Bradford
“The first time I wore my hijab into the office, I was so nervous, I stood outside on the phone to my friend for ages going, ‘What on earth is everyone going to say?’ When I walked in, a couple of people asked, ‘Why are you wearing that scarf? I didn’t know you were a Muslim.’
“I’m the last person you’d expect to convert to Islam: I had a very sheltered, working-class upbringing in South Yorkshire. I’d hardly even seen a Muslim before I went to university.
“In my first job at a solicitor’s firm in Barnsley, I remember desperately trying to play the role of the young, single, career woman: obsessively dieting, shopping and going to bars – but I never felt truly comfortable.
“Then one afternoon in 2004 everything changed: I was chatting to a Muslim friend over coffee, when he noticed the little gold crucifix around my neck. He said, ‘Do you believe in God, then?’ I wore it more for fashion than religion and said, ‘No, I don’t think so,’ and he started talking about his faith.
“I brushed him off at first, but his words stuck in my mind. A few days later, I found myself ordering a copy of the Koran on the internet.
“It took me a while to work up the courage to go to a women’s social event run by the Leeds New Muslims group. I remember hovering outside the door thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ I imagined they would be dressed head-to-toe in black robes: what could I, a 25-year-old, blonde English girl, possibly have in common with them?
“But when I walked in, none of them fitted the stereotype of the oppressed Muslim housewife; they were all doctors, teachers and psychiatrists. I was struck by how content and secure they seemed. It was meeting these women, more than any of the books I read, that convinced me that I wanted to become a Muslim.
“After four years, in March 2008, I made the declaration of faith at a friend’s house. At first, I was anxious that I hadn’t done the right thing, but I soon relaxed into it – a bit like starting a new job.
“A few months later, I sat my parents down and said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’ There was a silence and my mum said, ‘You’re going to become Muslim, aren’t you?’ She burst into tears and kept asking things like, ‘What happens when you get married? Do you have to cover up? What about your job?’ I tried to reassure her that I’d still be me, but she was concerned for my welfare.
“Contrary to what most people think, Islam doesn’t oppress me; it lets me be the person that I was all along. Now I’m so much more content and grateful for the things I’ve got. A few months ago, I got engaged to a Muslim solicitor I met on a training course. He has absolutely no problem with my career, but I do agree with the Islamic perspective on the traditional roles for men and women. I want to look after my husband and children, but I also want my independence. I’m proud to be British and I’m proud to be Muslim – and I don’t see them as conflicting in any way.”
Aqeela Lindsay WheelerHousewife and mother, 26, Leicester
“As a teenager I thought all religion was pathetic. I used to spend every weekend getting drunk outside the leisure centre, in high-heeled sandals and miniskirts. My view was: what’s the point in putting restrictions on yourself? You only live once.
“At university, I lived the typical student existence, drinking and going clubbing, but I’d always wake up the next morning with a hangover and think, what’s the point?
“It wasn’t until my second year that I met Hussein. I knew he was a Muslim, but we were falling in love, so I brushed the whole issue of religion under the carpet. But six months into our relationship, he told me that being with me was ‘against his faith’.
“I was so confused. That night I sat up all night reading two books on Islam that Hussein had given me. I remember bursting into tears because I was so overwhelmed. I thought, ‘This could be the whole meaning of life.’ But I had a lot of questions: why should I cover my head? Why can’t I eat what I like?
“I started talking to Muslim women at university and they completely changed my view. They were educated, successful – and actually found the headscarf liberating. I was convinced, and three weeks later officially converted to Islam.
“When I told my mum a few weeks later, I don’t think she took it seriously. She made a few comments like, ‘Why would you wear that scarf? You’ve got lovely hair,’ but she didn’t seem to understand what it meant.
“My best friend at university completely turned on me: she couldn’t understand how one week I was out clubbing, and the next I’d given everything up and converted to Islam. She was too close to my old life, so I don’t regret losing her as a friend.
“I chose the name Aqeela because it means ‘sensible and intelligent’ – and that’s what I was aspiring to become when I converted to Islam six years ago. I became a whole new person: everything to do with Lindsay, I’ve erased from my memory.
“The most difficult thing was changing the way I dressed, because I was always so fashion-conscious. The first time I tried on the hijab, I remember sitting in front of the mirror, thinking, ‘What am I doing putting a piece of cloth over my head? I look crazy!’ Now I’d feel naked without it and only occasionally daydream about feeling the wind blow through my hair. Once or twice, I’ve come home and burst into tears because of how frumpy I feel – but that’s just vanity.
“It’s a relief not to feel that pressure any more. Wearing the hijab reminds me that all I need to do is serve God and be humble. I’ve even gone through phases of wearing the niqab [face veil] because I felt it was more appropriate – but it can cause problems, too.
“When people see a white girl wearing a niqab they assume I’ve stuck my fingers up at my own culture to ‘follow a bunch of Asians’. I’ve even had teenage boys shout at me in the street, ‘Get that s*** off your head, you white bastard.’ After the London bombings, I was scared to walk about in the streets for fear of retaliation.
“For the most part, I have a very happy life. I married Hussein and now we have a one-year-old son, Zakir. We try to follow the traditional Muslim roles: I’m foremost a housewife and mother, while he goes out to work. I used to dream of having a successful career as a psychologist, but now it’s not something I desire.
“Becoming a Muslim certainly wasn’t an easy way out. This life can sometimes feel like a prison, with so many rules and restrictions, but we believe that we will be rewarded in the afterlife.”
Catherine HeseltineNursery school teacher, 31, North London
“If you’d asked me at the age of 16 if I’d like to become a Muslim, I would have said, ‘No thanks.’ I was quite happy drinking, partying and fitting in with my friends.
“Growing up in North London, we never practised religion at home; I always thought it was slightly old-fashioned and irrelevant. But when I met my future husband, Syed, in the sixth form, he challenged all my preconceptions. He was young, Muslim, believed in God – and yet he was normal. The only difference was that, unlike most teenage boys, he never drank.
“A year later, we were head over heels in love, but we quickly realised: how could we be together if he was a Muslim and I wasn’t?
“Before meeting Syed, I’d never actually questioned what I believed in; I’d just picked up my casual agnosticism through osmosis. So I started reading a few books on Islam out of curiosity.
“In the beginning, the Koran appealed to me on an intellectual level; the emotional and spiritual side didn’t come until later. I loved its explanations of the natural world and discovered that 1,500 years ago, Islam gave women rights that they didn’t have here in the West until relatively recently. It was a revelation.
“Religion wasn’t exactly a ‘cool’ thing to talk about, so for three years I kept my interest in Islam to myself. But in my first year at university, Syed and I decided to get married – and I knew it was time to tell my parents. My mum’s initial reaction was, ‘Couldn’t you just live together first?’ She had concerns about me rushing into marriage and the role of women in Muslim households – but no one realised how seriously I was taking my religious conversion. I remember going out for dinner with my dad and him saying, ‘Go on, have a glass of wine. I won’t tell Syed!’ A lot of people assumed I was only converting to Islam to keep his family happy, not because I believed in it.
“Later that year, we had an enormous Bengali wedding, and moved into a flat together – but I certainly wasn’t chained to the kitchen sink. I didn’t even wear the hijab at all to start with, and wore a bandana or a hat instead.
“I was used to getting a certain amount of attention from guys when I went out to clubs and bars, but I had to let that go. I gradually adopted the Islamic way of thinking: I wanted people to judge me for my intelligence and my character – not for the way I looked. It was empowering.
“I’d never been part of a religious minority before, so that was a big adjustment, but my friends were very accepting. Some of them were a bit shocked: ‘What, no drink, no drugs, no men? I couldn’t do that!’ And it took a while for my male friends at university to remember things like not kissing me hello on the cheek any more. I’d have to say, ‘Sorry, it’s a Muslim thing.’
“Over time, I actually became more religious than my husband. We started growing apart in other ways, too. In the end, I think the responsibility of marriage was too much for him; he became distant and disengaged. After seven years together, I decided to get a divorce.
“When I moved back in with my parents, people were surprised I was still wandering around in a headscarf. But if anything, being on my own strengthened my faith: I began to gain a sense of myself as a Muslim, independent of him.
“Islam has given me a sense of direction and purpose. I’m involved with the Muslim Public Affairs Committee, and lead campaigns against Islamophobia, discrimination against women in mosques, poverty and the situation in Palestine. When people call us ‘extremists’ or ‘the dark underbelly of British politics’, I just think it’s ridiculous. There are a lot of problems in the Muslim community, but when people feel under siege it makes progress even more difficult.
“I still feel very much part of white British society, but I am also a Muslim. It has taken a while to fit those two identities together, but now I feel very confident being who I am. I’m part of both worlds and no one can take that away from me.”
Sukina DouglasSpoken-word poet, 28, London
“Before I found Islam, my gaze was firmly fixed on Africa. I was raised a Rastafarian and used to have crazy-long dreadlocks: one half blonde and the other half black.
“Then, in 2005, my ex-boyfriend came back from a trip to Africa and announced that he’d converted to Islam. I was furious and told him he was ‘losing his African roots’. Why was he trying to be an Arab? It was so foreign to how I lived my life. Every time I saw a Muslim woman in the street I thought, ‘Why do they have to cover up like that? Aren’t they hot?’ It looked oppressive to me.
“Islam was already in my consciousness, but when I started reading the autobiography of Malcolm X at university, something opened up inside me. One day I said to my best friend, Muneera, ‘I’m falling in love with Islam.’ She laughed and said, ‘Be quiet, Sukina!’ She only started exploring Islam to prove me wrong, but soon enough she started believing it, too.
“I was always passionate about women’s rights; there was no way I would have entered a religion that sought to degrade me. So when I came across a book by a Moroccan feminist, it unravelled all my negative opinions: Islam didn’t oppress women; people did.
“Before I converted, I conducted an experiment. I covered up in a long gypsy skirt and headscarf and went out. But I didn’t feel frumpy; I felt beautiful. I realised, I’m not a sexual commodity for men to lust after; I want to be judged for what I contribute mentally.
“Muneera and I took our shahada [declaration of faith] together a few months later, and I cut my dreadlocks off to represent renewal: it was the beginning of a new life.
“Just three weeks after our conversion, the 7/7 bombings happened; suddenly we were public enemy No 1. I’d never experienced racism in London before, but in the weeks after the bombs, people would throw eggs at me and say, ‘Go back to your own country,’ even though this was my country.
“I’m not trying to shy away from any aspect of who I am. Some people dress in Arabian or Pakistani styles, but I’m British and Caribbean, so my national dress is Primark and Topshop, layered with colourful charity-shop scarves.
“Six months after I converted, I got back together with my ex-boyfriend, and now we’re married. Our roles in the home are different, because we are different people, but he would never try to order me around; that’s not how I was raised.
“Before I found Islam, I was a rebel without a cause, but now I have a purpose in life: I can identify my flaws and work towards becoming a better person. To me, being a Muslim means contributing to your society, no matter where you come from.”
Catherine HuntleyRetail assistant, 21, Bournemouth
“My parents always thought I was abnormal, even before I became a Muslim. In my early teens, they’d find me watching TV on a Friday night and say, ‘What are you doing at home? Haven’t you got any friends to go out with?’
“The truth was: I didn’t like alcohol, I’ve never tried smoking and I wasn’t interested in boys. You’d think they’d have been pleased.
“I’ve always been quite a spiritual person, so when I started studying Islam in my first year of GCSEs, something just clicked. I would spend every lunchtime reading about Islam on the computer. I had peace in my heart and nothing else mattered any more. It was a weird experience – I’d found myself, but the person I found wasn’t like anyone else I knew.
“I’d hardly ever seen a Muslim before, so I didn’t have any preconceptions, but my parents weren’t so open-minded. I hid all my Muslim books and headscarves in a drawer, because I was so scared they’d find out.
“When I told my parents, they were horrified and said, ‘We’ll talk about it when you’re 18.’ But my passion for Islam just grew stronger. I started dressing more modestly and would secretly fast during Ramadan. I got very good at leading a double life until one day, when I was 17, I couldn’t wait any longer.
“I sneaked out of the house, put my hijab in a carrier bag and got on the train to Bournemouth. I must have looked completely crazy putting it on in the train carriage, using a wastebin lid as a mirror. When a couple of old people gave me dirty looks, I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like myself.
“A week after my conversion, my mum came marching into my room and said, ‘Have you got something to tell me?’ She pulled my certificate of conversion out of her pocket. I think they’d rather have found anything else at that point – drugs, cigarettes, condoms – because at least they could have put it down to teenage rebellion.
“I could see the fear in her eyes. She couldn’t comprehend why I’d want to give up my freedom for the sake of a foreign religion. Why would I want to join all those terrorists and suicide bombers?
“It was hard being a Muslim in my parents’ house. I’ll never forget one evening, there were two women in burkas on the front page of the newspaper, and they started joking, ‘That’ll be Catherine soon.’
“They didn’t like me praying five times a day either; they thought it was ‘obsessive’. I’d pray right in front of my bedroom door so my mum couldn’t walk in, but she would always call upstairs, ‘Catherine, do you want a cup of tea?’ just so I’d have to stop.
“Four years on, my grandad still says things like, ‘Muslim women have to walk three steps behind their husbands.’ It gets me really angry, because that’s the culture, not the religion. My fiancé, whom I met eight months ago, is from Afghanistan and he believes that a Muslim woman is a pearl and her husband is the shell that protects her. I value that old-fashioned way of life: I’m glad that when we get married he’ll take care of paying the bills. I always wanted to be a housewife anyway.
“Marrying an Afghan man was the cherry on the cake for my parents. They think I’m completely crazy now. He’s an accountant and actually speaks better English than I do, but they don’t care. The wedding will be in a mosque, so I don’t think they’ll come. It hurts to think I’ll never have that fairytale wedding, surrounded by my family. But I hope my new life with my husband will be a lot happier. I’ll create the home I’ve always wanted, without having to feel the pain of people judging me.”
And yet, while less than 2 per cent of the population now attends a Church of England service every week, the number of female converts to Islam is on the rise. At the London Central Mosque in Regent’s Park, women account for roughly two thirds of the “New Muslims” who make their official declarations of faith there – and most of them are under the age of 30.
Conversion statistics are frustratingly patchy, but at the time of the 2001 Census, there were at least 30,000 British Muslim converts in the UK. According to Kevin Brice, of the Centre for Migration Policy Research, Swansea University, this number may now be closer to 50,000 – and the majority are women. “Basic analysis shows that increasing numbers of young, university-educated women in their twenties and thirties are converting to Islam,” confirms Brice.
“Our liberal, pluralistic 21st-century society means we can choose our careers, our politics – and we can pick and choose who we want to be spiritually,” explains Dr Mohammad S. Seddon, lecturer in Islamic Studies at the University of Chester. We’re in an era of the “religious supermarket”, he says.
·
Joanne Bailey
Solicitor, 30, Bradford
“The first time I wore my hijab into the office, I was so nervous, I stood outside on the phone to my friend for ages going, ‘What on earth is everyone going to say?’ When I walked in, a couple of people asked, ‘Why are you wearing that scarf? I didn’t know you were a Muslim.’
“I’m the last person you’d expect to convert to Islam: I had a very sheltered, working-class upbringing in South Yorkshire. I’d hardly even seen a Muslim before I went to university.
“In my first job at a solicitor’s firm in Barnsley, I remember desperately trying to play the role of the young, single, career woman: obsessively dieting, shopping and going to bars – but I never felt truly comfortable.
“Then one afternoon in 2004 everything changed: I was chatting to a Muslim friend over coffee, when he noticed the little gold crucifix around my neck. He said, ‘Do you believe in God, then?’ I wore it more for fashion than religion and said, ‘No, I don’t think so,’ and he started talking about his faith.
“I brushed him off at first, but his words stuck in my mind. A few days later, I found myself ordering a copy of the Koran on the internet.
“It took me a while to work up the courage to go to a women’s social event run by the Leeds New Muslims group. I remember hovering outside the door thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ I imagined they would be dressed head-to-toe in black robes: what could I, a 25-year-old, blonde English girl, possibly have in common with them?
“But when I walked in, none of them fitted the stereotype of the oppressed Muslim housewife; they were all doctors, teachers and psychiatrists. I was struck by how content and secure they seemed. It was meeting these women, more than any of the books I read, that convinced me that I wanted to become a Muslim.
“After four years, in March 2008, I made the declaration of faith at a friend’s house. At first, I was anxious that I hadn’t done the right thing, but I soon relaxed into it – a bit like starting a new job.
“A few months later, I sat my parents down and said, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’ There was a silence and my mum said, ‘You’re going to become Muslim, aren’t you?’ She burst into tears and kept asking things like, ‘What happens when you get married? Do you have to cover up? What about your job?’ I tried to reassure her that I’d still be me, but she was concerned for my welfare.
“Contrary to what most people think, Islam doesn’t oppress me; it lets me be the person that I was all along. Now I’m so much more content and grateful for the things I’ve got. A few months ago, I got engaged to a Muslim solicitor I met on a training course. He has absolutely no problem with my career, but I do agree with the Islamic perspective on the traditional roles for men and women. I want to look after my husband and children, but I also want my independence. I’m proud to be British and I’m proud to be Muslim – and I don’t see them as conflicting in any way.”
Aqeela Lindsay WheelerHousewife and mother, 26, Leicester
“As a teenager I thought all religion was pathetic. I used to spend every weekend getting drunk outside the leisure centre, in high-heeled sandals and miniskirts. My view was: what’s the point in putting restrictions on yourself? You only live once.
“At university, I lived the typical student existence, drinking and going clubbing, but I’d always wake up the next morning with a hangover and think, what’s the point?
“It wasn’t until my second year that I met Hussein. I knew he was a Muslim, but we were falling in love, so I brushed the whole issue of religion under the carpet. But six months into our relationship, he told me that being with me was ‘against his faith’.
“I was so confused. That night I sat up all night reading two books on Islam that Hussein had given me. I remember bursting into tears because I was so overwhelmed. I thought, ‘This could be the whole meaning of life.’ But I had a lot of questions: why should I cover my head? Why can’t I eat what I like?
“I started talking to Muslim women at university and they completely changed my view. They were educated, successful – and actually found the headscarf liberating. I was convinced, and three weeks later officially converted to Islam.
“When I told my mum a few weeks later, I don’t think she took it seriously. She made a few comments like, ‘Why would you wear that scarf? You’ve got lovely hair,’ but she didn’t seem to understand what it meant.
“My best friend at university completely turned on me: she couldn’t understand how one week I was out clubbing, and the next I’d given everything up and converted to Islam. She was too close to my old life, so I don’t regret losing her as a friend.
“I chose the name Aqeela because it means ‘sensible and intelligent’ – and that’s what I was aspiring to become when I converted to Islam six years ago. I became a whole new person: everything to do with Lindsay, I’ve erased from my memory.
“The most difficult thing was changing the way I dressed, because I was always so fashion-conscious. The first time I tried on the hijab, I remember sitting in front of the mirror, thinking, ‘What am I doing putting a piece of cloth over my head? I look crazy!’ Now I’d feel naked without it and only occasionally daydream about feeling the wind blow through my hair. Once or twice, I’ve come home and burst into tears because of how frumpy I feel – but that’s just vanity.
“It’s a relief not to feel that pressure any more. Wearing the hijab reminds me that all I need to do is serve God and be humble. I’ve even gone through phases of wearing the niqab [face veil] because I felt it was more appropriate – but it can cause problems, too.
“When people see a white girl wearing a niqab they assume I’ve stuck my fingers up at my own culture to ‘follow a bunch of Asians’. I’ve even had teenage boys shout at me in the street, ‘Get that s*** off your head, you white bastard.’ After the London bombings, I was scared to walk about in the streets for fear of retaliation.
“For the most part, I have a very happy life. I married Hussein and now we have a one-year-old son, Zakir. We try to follow the traditional Muslim roles: I’m foremost a housewife and mother, while he goes out to work. I used to dream of having a successful career as a psychologist, but now it’s not something I desire.
“Becoming a Muslim certainly wasn’t an easy way out. This life can sometimes feel like a prison, with so many rules and restrictions, but we believe that we will be rewarded in the afterlife.”
Catherine HeseltineNursery school teacher, 31, North London
“If you’d asked me at the age of 16 if I’d like to become a Muslim, I would have said, ‘No thanks.’ I was quite happy drinking, partying and fitting in with my friends.
“Growing up in North London, we never practised religion at home; I always thought it was slightly old-fashioned and irrelevant. But when I met my future husband, Syed, in the sixth form, he challenged all my preconceptions. He was young, Muslim, believed in God – and yet he was normal. The only difference was that, unlike most teenage boys, he never drank.
“A year later, we were head over heels in love, but we quickly realised: how could we be together if he was a Muslim and I wasn’t?
“Before meeting Syed, I’d never actually questioned what I believed in; I’d just picked up my casual agnosticism through osmosis. So I started reading a few books on Islam out of curiosity.
“In the beginning, the Koran appealed to me on an intellectual level; the emotional and spiritual side didn’t come until later. I loved its explanations of the natural world and discovered that 1,500 years ago, Islam gave women rights that they didn’t have here in the West until relatively recently. It was a revelation.
“Religion wasn’t exactly a ‘cool’ thing to talk about, so for three years I kept my interest in Islam to myself. But in my first year at university, Syed and I decided to get married – and I knew it was time to tell my parents. My mum’s initial reaction was, ‘Couldn’t you just live together first?’ She had concerns about me rushing into marriage and the role of women in Muslim households – but no one realised how seriously I was taking my religious conversion. I remember going out for dinner with my dad and him saying, ‘Go on, have a glass of wine. I won’t tell Syed!’ A lot of people assumed I was only converting to Islam to keep his family happy, not because I believed in it.
“Later that year, we had an enormous Bengali wedding, and moved into a flat together – but I certainly wasn’t chained to the kitchen sink. I didn’t even wear the hijab at all to start with, and wore a bandana or a hat instead.
“I was used to getting a certain amount of attention from guys when I went out to clubs and bars, but I had to let that go. I gradually adopted the Islamic way of thinking: I wanted people to judge me for my intelligence and my character – not for the way I looked. It was empowering.
“I’d never been part of a religious minority before, so that was a big adjustment, but my friends were very accepting. Some of them were a bit shocked: ‘What, no drink, no drugs, no men? I couldn’t do that!’ And it took a while for my male friends at university to remember things like not kissing me hello on the cheek any more. I’d have to say, ‘Sorry, it’s a Muslim thing.’
“Over time, I actually became more religious than my husband. We started growing apart in other ways, too. In the end, I think the responsibility of marriage was too much for him; he became distant and disengaged. After seven years together, I decided to get a divorce.
“When I moved back in with my parents, people were surprised I was still wandering around in a headscarf. But if anything, being on my own strengthened my faith: I began to gain a sense of myself as a Muslim, independent of him.
“Islam has given me a sense of direction and purpose. I’m involved with the Muslim Public Affairs Committee, and lead campaigns against Islamophobia, discrimination against women in mosques, poverty and the situation in Palestine. When people call us ‘extremists’ or ‘the dark underbelly of British politics’, I just think it’s ridiculous. There are a lot of problems in the Muslim community, but when people feel under siege it makes progress even more difficult.
“I still feel very much part of white British society, but I am also a Muslim. It has taken a while to fit those two identities together, but now I feel very confident being who I am. I’m part of both worlds and no one can take that away from me.”
Sukina DouglasSpoken-word poet, 28, London
“Before I found Islam, my gaze was firmly fixed on Africa. I was raised a Rastafarian and used to have crazy-long dreadlocks: one half blonde and the other half black.
“Then, in 2005, my ex-boyfriend came back from a trip to Africa and announced that he’d converted to Islam. I was furious and told him he was ‘losing his African roots’. Why was he trying to be an Arab? It was so foreign to how I lived my life. Every time I saw a Muslim woman in the street I thought, ‘Why do they have to cover up like that? Aren’t they hot?’ It looked oppressive to me.
“Islam was already in my consciousness, but when I started reading the autobiography of Malcolm X at university, something opened up inside me. One day I said to my best friend, Muneera, ‘I’m falling in love with Islam.’ She laughed and said, ‘Be quiet, Sukina!’ She only started exploring Islam to prove me wrong, but soon enough she started believing it, too.
“I was always passionate about women’s rights; there was no way I would have entered a religion that sought to degrade me. So when I came across a book by a Moroccan feminist, it unravelled all my negative opinions: Islam didn’t oppress women; people did.
“Before I converted, I conducted an experiment. I covered up in a long gypsy skirt and headscarf and went out. But I didn’t feel frumpy; I felt beautiful. I realised, I’m not a sexual commodity for men to lust after; I want to be judged for what I contribute mentally.
“Muneera and I took our shahada [declaration of faith] together a few months later, and I cut my dreadlocks off to represent renewal: it was the beginning of a new life.
“Just three weeks after our conversion, the 7/7 bombings happened; suddenly we were public enemy No 1. I’d never experienced racism in London before, but in the weeks after the bombs, people would throw eggs at me and say, ‘Go back to your own country,’ even though this was my country.
“I’m not trying to shy away from any aspect of who I am. Some people dress in Arabian or Pakistani styles, but I’m British and Caribbean, so my national dress is Primark and Topshop, layered with colourful charity-shop scarves.
“Six months after I converted, I got back together with my ex-boyfriend, and now we’re married. Our roles in the home are different, because we are different people, but he would never try to order me around; that’s not how I was raised.
“Before I found Islam, I was a rebel without a cause, but now I have a purpose in life: I can identify my flaws and work towards becoming a better person. To me, being a Muslim means contributing to your society, no matter where you come from.”
Catherine HuntleyRetail assistant, 21, Bournemouth
“My parents always thought I was abnormal, even before I became a Muslim. In my early teens, they’d find me watching TV on a Friday night and say, ‘What are you doing at home? Haven’t you got any friends to go out with?’
“The truth was: I didn’t like alcohol, I’ve never tried smoking and I wasn’t interested in boys. You’d think they’d have been pleased.
“I’ve always been quite a spiritual person, so when I started studying Islam in my first year of GCSEs, something just clicked. I would spend every lunchtime reading about Islam on the computer. I had peace in my heart and nothing else mattered any more. It was a weird experience – I’d found myself, but the person I found wasn’t like anyone else I knew.
“I’d hardly ever seen a Muslim before, so I didn’t have any preconceptions, but my parents weren’t so open-minded. I hid all my Muslim books and headscarves in a drawer, because I was so scared they’d find out.
“When I told my parents, they were horrified and said, ‘We’ll talk about it when you’re 18.’ But my passion for Islam just grew stronger. I started dressing more modestly and would secretly fast during Ramadan. I got very good at leading a double life until one day, when I was 17, I couldn’t wait any longer.
“I sneaked out of the house, put my hijab in a carrier bag and got on the train to Bournemouth. I must have looked completely crazy putting it on in the train carriage, using a wastebin lid as a mirror. When a couple of old people gave me dirty looks, I didn’t care. For the first time in my life, I felt like myself.
“A week after my conversion, my mum came marching into my room and said, ‘Have you got something to tell me?’ She pulled my certificate of conversion out of her pocket. I think they’d rather have found anything else at that point – drugs, cigarettes, condoms – because at least they could have put it down to teenage rebellion.
“I could see the fear in her eyes. She couldn’t comprehend why I’d want to give up my freedom for the sake of a foreign religion. Why would I want to join all those terrorists and suicide bombers?
“It was hard being a Muslim in my parents’ house. I’ll never forget one evening, there were two women in burkas on the front page of the newspaper, and they started joking, ‘That’ll be Catherine soon.’
“They didn’t like me praying five times a day either; they thought it was ‘obsessive’. I’d pray right in front of my bedroom door so my mum couldn’t walk in, but she would always call upstairs, ‘Catherine, do you want a cup of tea?’ just so I’d have to stop.
“Four years on, my grandad still says things like, ‘Muslim women have to walk three steps behind their husbands.’ It gets me really angry, because that’s the culture, not the religion. My fiancé, whom I met eight months ago, is from Afghanistan and he believes that a Muslim woman is a pearl and her husband is the shell that protects her. I value that old-fashioned way of life: I’m glad that when we get married he’ll take care of paying the bills. I always wanted to be a housewife anyway.
“Marrying an Afghan man was the cherry on the cake for my parents. They think I’m completely crazy now. He’s an accountant and actually speaks better English than I do, but they don’t care. The wedding will be in a mosque, so I don’t think they’ll come. It hurts to think I’ll never have that fairytale wedding, surrounded by my family. But I hope my new life with my husband will be a lot happier. I’ll create the home I’ve always wanted, without having to feel the pain of people judging me.”
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
DR.MANYAUNYAU
Wafurika polisi kuona wanaojiita Dk. Manyaunyau 2008-01-26 09:42:28 Na Idda Mushi, PST, Morogoro
Mamia ya wakazi wa Mkoa wa Morogoro jana walifurika katika kituo kikuu cha Polisi Mkoani Morogoro baada ya kukamatwa kwa waganga wa jadi wanaodaiwa kutapeli wananchi kwa kujiita `Dk. Manyaunyau`. Inaelezwa kuwa kukamatwa kwa watu kulitokana na mtu anayeaminika kuwa ndiye Dk. Manyaunyau halisi kufika Morogoro na kuwashitaki watuhumiwa kwa utapeli kuwa wanatumia jina lake vibaya na kwamba walikutwa wakiwa katika harakati za kuendelea `kutapeli`. Ilidaiwa kwamba `waganga` hao watatu waliokamatwa wamekuwa wakijikusanyia fedha katika mitaa mbalimbali wakidai kwamba wanataka kuisafisha dhidi ya uchawi. Kilichowavutia wengi kufika kituoni hapo ni kugundua kwamba kumbe waliokuwa wakijiita Dk. Manyaunyau siyo na kwamba mhusika amewasili kuwaumbua wale waliokuwa wakiwatapeli. Bw. Jongo Salum (27), mkazi wa Tabata Mawezi, Dar es Salaam, ambaye kwa madai yake ndiye Dk. Manyaunyau `halisi`, mwenye leseni ya tiba anayoilipia mamlaka ya mapato nchini (TRA), aliwaambia waandishi wa habari kwamba amesikitishwa na hatua ya watu hao kutumia jina lake katika tiba zao ambazo hazijui. Mganga huyo wa jadi ambaye alidai jina lake limesajiliwa pia katika chama cha waganga cha utafiti na magonjwa sugu nchini (CHAMUTA) amekuwa akifanya shughuli zake bila kutoza fedha, hususani kazi ya kusafisha mitaa. ``Hawa hawana hata karatasi ya uhalali wa jina hilo. Halafu mimi situmii utaratibu wa kutoza fedha na huwa nawasiliana na uongozi wa mtaa husika, wakikubali niwafanyie kazi nawataka waniandikie ruhusa hiyo,`` alisema. Alisema iwapo itagundulika ni kweli watu hao walikuwa wakilitumia jina lake `kutapeli` watu atawadai fidia lakini hawezi kuwazuia kufanya kazi zao na kujitafutia umaarufu kupitia majina mengine. Hata hivyo, alikiri kuwa mmoja kati ya vijana waliokamatwa, Rajab Shomari, mkazi wa Kisarawe, alikuwa akifanya naye kazi mwaka mmoja uliopita lakini alimtoroka baada ya kumuibia `tunguli`. Wanaoshikiliwa na Polisi kwa mahojiano ni Tete Diamwana au ``Wakutambatamba``, Mkazi wa Sumbawanga, Sharifu Sharifu mkazi wa Mombo na Rajab Shomari, mkazi wa Chole Kisarawe. Wakihojiwa kituoni hapo, watuhumiwa walikiri kufanya kazi za kiganga katika maeneo mbalimbali ya Manispaa ya Morogoro lakini wakadai kwamba jina hilo la Manyaunyau walipewa na wakazi kutokana na kunywa damu ya paka. Mmoja wa wakazi wa Mtaa wa CCM Mafiga, Bi. Sikudhani Kassim aliwaambia waandishi wa habari nje ya kituo hicho cha Polisi kuwa watu hao waliokamatwa waliwatapeli kutokana na imani zao potofu za kukubali kuondolewa matatizo ya kishirikina katika maeneo yao. ``Tulijichanga mwenye elfu mbili, tatu na hata zaidi ili tufikishe laki moja waliyokuwa wakitaka lakini tulifikisha 75,000 tu wakakubali, lakini tuliposikia kaja Manyaunyau halisi ikabidi tuje tuthibitishe kama ni kweli au la,`` alisema dada huyo.
SOURCE: Nipashe
Mamia ya wakazi wa Mkoa wa Morogoro jana walifurika katika kituo kikuu cha Polisi Mkoani Morogoro baada ya kukamatwa kwa waganga wa jadi wanaodaiwa kutapeli wananchi kwa kujiita `Dk. Manyaunyau`. Inaelezwa kuwa kukamatwa kwa watu kulitokana na mtu anayeaminika kuwa ndiye Dk. Manyaunyau halisi kufika Morogoro na kuwashitaki watuhumiwa kwa utapeli kuwa wanatumia jina lake vibaya na kwamba walikutwa wakiwa katika harakati za kuendelea `kutapeli`. Ilidaiwa kwamba `waganga` hao watatu waliokamatwa wamekuwa wakijikusanyia fedha katika mitaa mbalimbali wakidai kwamba wanataka kuisafisha dhidi ya uchawi. Kilichowavutia wengi kufika kituoni hapo ni kugundua kwamba kumbe waliokuwa wakijiita Dk. Manyaunyau siyo na kwamba mhusika amewasili kuwaumbua wale waliokuwa wakiwatapeli. Bw. Jongo Salum (27), mkazi wa Tabata Mawezi, Dar es Salaam, ambaye kwa madai yake ndiye Dk. Manyaunyau `halisi`, mwenye leseni ya tiba anayoilipia mamlaka ya mapato nchini (TRA), aliwaambia waandishi wa habari kwamba amesikitishwa na hatua ya watu hao kutumia jina lake katika tiba zao ambazo hazijui. Mganga huyo wa jadi ambaye alidai jina lake limesajiliwa pia katika chama cha waganga cha utafiti na magonjwa sugu nchini (CHAMUTA) amekuwa akifanya shughuli zake bila kutoza fedha, hususani kazi ya kusafisha mitaa. ``Hawa hawana hata karatasi ya uhalali wa jina hilo. Halafu mimi situmii utaratibu wa kutoza fedha na huwa nawasiliana na uongozi wa mtaa husika, wakikubali niwafanyie kazi nawataka waniandikie ruhusa hiyo,`` alisema. Alisema iwapo itagundulika ni kweli watu hao walikuwa wakilitumia jina lake `kutapeli` watu atawadai fidia lakini hawezi kuwazuia kufanya kazi zao na kujitafutia umaarufu kupitia majina mengine. Hata hivyo, alikiri kuwa mmoja kati ya vijana waliokamatwa, Rajab Shomari, mkazi wa Kisarawe, alikuwa akifanya naye kazi mwaka mmoja uliopita lakini alimtoroka baada ya kumuibia `tunguli`. Wanaoshikiliwa na Polisi kwa mahojiano ni Tete Diamwana au ``Wakutambatamba``, Mkazi wa Sumbawanga, Sharifu Sharifu mkazi wa Mombo na Rajab Shomari, mkazi wa Chole Kisarawe. Wakihojiwa kituoni hapo, watuhumiwa walikiri kufanya kazi za kiganga katika maeneo mbalimbali ya Manispaa ya Morogoro lakini wakadai kwamba jina hilo la Manyaunyau walipewa na wakazi kutokana na kunywa damu ya paka. Mmoja wa wakazi wa Mtaa wa CCM Mafiga, Bi. Sikudhani Kassim aliwaambia waandishi wa habari nje ya kituo hicho cha Polisi kuwa watu hao waliokamatwa waliwatapeli kutokana na imani zao potofu za kukubali kuondolewa matatizo ya kishirikina katika maeneo yao. ``Tulijichanga mwenye elfu mbili, tatu na hata zaidi ili tufikishe laki moja waliyokuwa wakitaka lakini tulifikisha 75,000 tu wakakubali, lakini tuliposikia kaja Manyaunyau halisi ikabidi tuje tuthibitishe kama ni kweli au la,`` alisema dada huyo.
SOURCE: Nipashe
Monday, June 14, 2010
DR.MANYAUNYAU MAZESE
Mganga maarufu jijini Dar es Salaam, Manyaunyau, akitafuta nyoka anayesadikika kuwa jini katika eneo la Manzese Midizini. Nyoka huyo wa 'ajabu' amesumbua wakazi wa Kata hiyo kwa kipindui cha zaidi ya wiki mbili na kugonga watu kimazingara. (Picha na Heri Shaaban)HOFU imetanda miongoni mwa wakazi wa Manzese na vitongoji jirani baada ya kuibuka uvumi kuwa kuna nyoka anayewagonga watu kimaajabu katika njia inayopita kwenye makaburi yaliyopo Manzese Midizini.
Hali hiyo imewafanya wakazi wa maeneo hayo pamoja na wapita njia waliokuwa wakiitumia njia hiyo kulazimika kupitia njia nyingine, na pia wamelazimika kumuita mganga wa kienyeji, Jongo Seleman maarufu kama Dk. Manyaunyau, ili kuangalia kama atawasaidia wakazi hao kuondokana na hali hiyo ambayo wanahisi kuwa ni mambo ya mazingara.Baadhi ya wakazi wa eneo hilo wameliambia gazeti hili kuwa tangu tatizo hilo lianze karibu wiki mbili zilizopita, wapitanjia saba katika eneo hilo wameshagongwa na nyoka huyo wa ajabu ambaye hubadilika rangi na umbo kila mara.Baadhi ya watu wanaodaiwa kugongwa na nyoka huyo ni Rose John wa Midizini, Manzese, ambaye ameliambia gazeti hili alivyogongwa na nyoka huyo wa ajabu. Ingawa hakuumia kiasi cha kulazwa hospitali, amesema amepatwa na mshtuko mkubwa.Mwingine anayedaiwa kugongwa na nyoka huyo ni Farida Hamza ambaye inadaiwa kuwa amelazwa katika Hospitali ya Mwananyamala kwa matibabu na Halima Hamisi wa Mazense Mzambarauni ambaye naye amegongwa.Mwenyekiti wa Serikali za Mitaa wa Kata ya Mzambarauni, Ahmed Mteremko na Omari Pinde wa Kata ya Midizini, walipoulizwa kuhusu habari hizo, walisema hawajazithibitisha.Hata hivyo, Diwani wa kata hiyo, Kassim Lema, alishauri kuwa eneo lote hilo lisafishwe, jambo ambalo lilifanyika, lakini bado watu wanaendelea kugongwa na nyoka huyo kiasi cha kuwafanya baadhi ya wananchi wa eneo hilo kumleta mganga wa kienyeji ingawa viongozi wa mtaa huo walikataa wakidai kuwa Serikali haiamini ushirikina.Wananchi waliohojiwa na gazeti hili jana na leo wamesema nyoka huyo amekuwa akijitokeza katika ukubwa mbalimbali huku akiwa katika rangi tofauti hali ambayo imekuwa ikiwafanya waamini kuwa nyoka huyo siyo wa kawaida."Kabla hajakugonga, kwanza kinakuja kitu kama mfuko laini wa nailoni unaopeperushwa na upepo, halafu unajiviringisha mguu ukija kutaamaki ni nyoka," amesema mmoja wa wakazi wa eneo hilo, Asha Ramadhan.Amesema nyoka huyo akishamgonga mtu hutoweka tena katika mazingira hayo hayo ya kutatanisha na kwamba kutokana na hali hiyo, wakazi wa eneo hilo wamewazuia watoto wao kupita njia hiyo wakati wa kwenda na kutoka shule kwa hofu ya kugongwa na nyoka huyo.Naye Yusuf Ramadhan, mkazi wa Manzese, amesema hali hiyo imewafanya waishi kwa hofu kwa sababu hawajui kitakachotokea baadaye.Amesema tatizo hilo lilianza wiki mbili zilizopita na kadiri siku zinavyopita ndivyo hali ya wasiwasi imekuwa ikizidi kuongezeka."Kwa kweli hali ni ya kutisha na njia hii ndiyo ilikuwa rahisi kwenda maeneo mbalimbali kama Mabibo lakini inatubidi tusipite," amesema Ramadhan.Gazeti hili lilipofika eneo hilo jana walikuta umati mkubwa wa watu ukiwa umeandamana na Dk. Manyaunyau ambaye alikuwa akijaribu kutumia njia za asili ili kujaribu kumkamata nyoka huyo.Hata hivyo, mganga huyo alionekana kuelemewa baada ya kuwaeleza wakazi hao kuwa mambo aliyoyaona ni makubwa na hivyo inamlazimu akakusanye nguvu zaidi na kuwaahidi kurejea eneo hilo leo.Imani za kishirikina zimekuwa zikiibuka mara kadhaa jijini na kuwafanya watu kuishi kwa hofu.Miongoni mwa imani hizo ni pamoja na ile ya kuwepo mdudu anayeitwa ‘Popo Bawa’ ambaye anadaiwa kuwaingilia watu kimazingara
Friday, June 11, 2010
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Tuesday, June 8, 2010
chiwawa na waukweri wapo kwenye zoezi
Chiwawa ruka juu kwa sana
Chiwawa piga nne na weka mikono kichwani
Waukweri nawe simama wima
Saturday, June 5, 2010
KAZI MBAYA UKIWANAYO
Vijana wakiwa kwenye ujira yao pande za jagwani maeneo ya kariakoo kwani mafundi hawa wamejizolea umaalufu mkubwa sana kwa kutengeneza magari vizuri haswa ni yare chakavu yani ni ya mwezangu namie DCM.rako hata kama imechoka kupindukia ukiretahapa razima itakuwa mpya nazani umeona za kwangu zilivyo
HAPA NDIO KWENYE OFFICE DR.MANYAUNYAU
WELL COME,TO MANYAUNYAU OFFICE ALEYA TABATA MAWENZI DAR.ES SAALAM
Friday, June 4, 2010
TANGAZO MABASI YANAKODISHWA
UKIWA UNA SHEREE AU MSIBA NA KAZARIKA GARI IZI ZINAKODISHWA BEI MZURITU NA ZINAUWEZO WA KWENDA POPOTE IRA ISIWE NNJE YA TANZANIA.SIM.0712553169
