Lobo's Lessons

Image credit here It is now that time of year again, where I start to reminisce the Christmases of my childhood. Christmas? you may ask... But I thought he was Muslim? I grew up in a stout Islamic environment where my parents ingrained in me the tenets of the Quran and hadith. But outside my little bubble I also grew up in an environment where Christmas was a magical time of year. It was the time when my friends would brag about the presents they would be getting from their parents, and how they would be playing with them when I came over to their house on Christmas, and so on and so forth. Excitement would radiate from every child, regardless of which race they belonged to... It was still an innocent time for me. A time when when boys were boys and girls were girls, and the top shelf magazines were not to be seen, although the curiosity was starting to build (Note - many people here would not understand this reference, though people who've been overseas are probably grinning just

(Forgive the gross spelling errors before as this entry was thumb-typed form my iPhone) I now sit here all alone in this deserted lecture room.. My mind goes blank for a while as I reflect on how I had to rush everything to make it to this very spot.. Rushed paperwork, rushed driving, rushed lunch, rushed prayers... All so that I could make it in time to evaluate a public speaking session.. And yet, here I am... Alone... As I wait, the door of the room opens. I see a young man with pleasant Somali features approach me. The troubled look on his was clear indication that something had not gone according to plan. "Mr Abdullah..." he starts, with a very apologetic voice "I'm very sorry to inform you that the other session has not finished yet... They started late, so we're going to have to postpone your session... I'm very sorry for the inconvenience" "It's ok" I reassure him "It's not your fault" He thanks me for understanding an