Poème en images

On voyage parfois en soi. Souvent même, je dirais.

Pérégrinations sans but, estivages sans bagage

Et les contrées qu'on arbore ont des couleurs et des parfums 

Que personne ne saura jamais. Jardins secrets...

Parfois, pourtant, on devine le tréfonds de l'âme d'un voisin. 

Humain à qui on tend la main

Ces couleurs pâles ou vives qu'on écrase du pinceau de nos pensées,

Traits nets ou flous de dessins incertains,

Sur la toile de nos silences,

Prennent alors l'air d'une vieille chanson

Qui nous a marqué

Et qu'on murmure aux oreilles de l'ami, de l'aimée.

Beatles in Technocolor - Beki Lantos

Over the Rainbow - Beki Lantos

Merci à Beki Lantos, artiste de la Région de la Capitale nationale, d'avoir partagé son oeuvre avec moi.  

Annelies Marie Frank

Je relis Le journal d'Anne Frank. Les mots me manquent pour décrire le sentiment de révolte qui m'envahit face à son destin, mais aussi face au destin de tous ces enfants pris en étau dans des conflits qu'ils n'ont aucun moyen de comprendre ou d'influencer. Liberia, Congo, Sarajevo, Rwanda, Somalie, Colombie, Yemen, Syrie...

L'auteur de Children of War, Roger Rosenblatt, cité dans Time Magazine "Time 100: Heroes & Icons of the 20th century" (14 juin 1999) décrit ainsi l'héritage de cette jeune adolescente traquée, trahie et internée durant les derniers mois de gloire de l'Allemagne nazie:

"Les passions déchaînées par ce livre suggèrent qu'Anne Frank appartient à tous, qu'elle s'est élevée au-dessus de la Shoah, du Judaïsme, de la féminité et du bien, pour devenir une icône du monde moderne - la moralité individuelle assaillie par le mécanisme de la destruction, insistant sur le droit de vivre, questionnant et espérant pour le futur de la condition humaine."


Le journal d'Anne Frank fait partie du registre Mémoire de Monde qui comprend le patrimoine documentaire de l'UNESCO, reconnu comme tel pour son intérêt international et sa valeur universelle exceptionnelle.

Attachiant

Le mot de l'année au festival XYZ du mot nouveau au Havre: Attachiant : désigne une personne difficile à vivre mais dont on ne peut se passer.

D'autres nouveaux mots selectionnés :

- Aigriculteur :  Agriculteur découragé par les difficultés de son métier,

- Bête seller :  navet littéraire qui bat des records de vente

- Textoter  : écrire des textos

- Eurogner : faire des économies dans la zone euro

En 2010, c'est  "Phonard", un terme péjoratif pour désigner une personne qui abuse de son téléphone mobile, qui avait été choisi.

Source: Le Post

Ode nouvelle

C'était il y a deux jours, un vendredi de novembre. Il faisait froid dehors, un temps gris; c'était un jour d'hiver comme un autre, nuageux, neigeux, fade. J'ai passé la journée à travailler à l'intérieur, sous les néons, aussi vite que j'ai pu pour ne pas penser au temps qui passe. Au temps qui passe.

À ma pause, une tasse de café en main, je me suis détendu et j'ai souri en lisant les messages-textes que j'avais reçus et en prenant les quelques appels des êtres chers qui soulignaient le temps qui passe. Le temps qui passe.

Le soir, après quelques courses en famille et un souper léger, j'ai retrouvé une dizaine d'amis pour une soirée de bowling. Nous avons mangé, bu et ri et nous avons célébré cette journée de novembre. À notre façon, tous ensemble, nous soulignions le temps qui passe. Le temps qui passe.

C'était il y a deux jours, un jour comme un autre. J'entamais un nouveau chapitre du roman-feuilleton de ma vie, une ode nouvelle à la vie, à l'amitié, à l'amour, une ode nouvelle au temps qui passe...

Ryad Assani-Razaki

Célébrons les succès d'un fils du pays!!


The Boy in the Moon, a tale of a father’s love for his disabled son by The Globe and Mail’s Ian Brown, and Ryad Assani-Razaki’s Deux Cercles, a collection of stories dealing with the frustrations of immigration, have each won the 2010 Trillium Book Award.

Assani-Razaki and Brown will each receive $20,000, and were toasted along with the winners of the Trillium Book Award for Poetry, Karen Solie for Pigeon and Michèle Matteau for Passerelles, at a luncheon announcing the 23rd annual awards in Toronto on Thursday.

Lire la suite

By James Bradshaw, Globe and Mail Update

"La tirade du nez" Extrait de Cyrano de Bergerac d'Edmond Rostand

Cover of Cyrano de Bergerac

C'est un clin d'oeil à une de mes passions que je vous fais partager... Toun

Acte 1, scène IV

CYRANO, imperturbable.
C'est tout ?...

LE VICOMTE
Mais...

CYRANO
Ah ! non ! c'est un peu court, jeune homme !
On pouvait dire... Oh! Dieu!... bien des choses en somme.
En variant le ton,-par exemple, tenez:
Agressif: " Moi, Monsieur, si j'avais un tel nez,
Il faudrait sur-le-champ que je me l'amputasse ! "
Amical: " Mais il doit tremper dans votre tasse !
Pour boire, faites-vous fabriquer un hanap! "
Descriptif: " C'est un roc ! . .. c'est un pic ! . . . c'est un cap !
Que dis-je, c'est un cap ?. .. C'est une péninsule ! "
Curieux: " De quoi sert cette oblongue capsule ?
D'écritoire, Monsieur, ou de boite à ciseaux ? "
Gracieux: " Aimez-vous à ce point les oiseaux
Que paternellement vous vous préoccupâtes
De tendre ce perchoir à leurs petites pattes ? "
Truculent: " Ça, Monsieur, lorsque vous pétunez,
La vapeur du tabac vous sort-elle du nez
Sans qu'un voisin ne crie au feu de cheminée ? "
Prévenant: " Gardez-vous, votre tête entrainée
Par ce poids, de tomber en avant sur le sol ! "
Tendre: " Faites-lui faire un petit parasol
De peur que sa couleur au soleil ne se fane ! "
Pédant: " L'animal seul, Monsieur, qu'Aristophane
Appelle Hippocampelephantocamelos
Dût avoir sous le front tant de chair sur tant d'os ! "
Cavalier: " Quoi, I'ami, ce croc est à la mode ?
Pour pendre son chapeau, c'est vraiment très commode! " ,
Emphatique: " Aucun vent ne peut, nez magistral,
T'enrhumer tout entier, excepté le mistral ! "
Dramatique: " C'est la Mer Rouge quand il saigne ! "
Admiratif: " Pour un parfumeur, quelle enseigne ! "
Lyrique: " Est-ce une conque, êtes-vous un triton ? "
Naïf: " Ce monument, quand le visite-t-on ? "
Respectueux: " Souffrez, Monsieur, qu'on vous salue,
C'est là ce qui s'appelle avoir pignon sur rue! "
Campagnard: " He, arde ! C'est-y un nez ? Nanain !
C'est queuqu'navet géant ou ben queuqu'melon nain ! "
Militaire: " Pointez contre cavalerie ! "
Pratique: " Voulez-vous le mettre en loterie ?
Assurément, Monsieur, ce sera le gros lot! "
Enfin, parodiant Pyrame en un sanglot:
" Le voilà donc ce nez qui des traits de son maître
A détruit l'harmonie! Il en rougit, le traître! "
- Voilà ce qu'à peu près, mon cher, vous m'auriez dit
Si vous aviez un peu de lettres et d'esprit:
Mais d'esprit, ô le plus lamentable des êtres,
Vous n'en eûtes jamais un atome, et de lettres
Vous n'avez que les trois qui forment le mot: sot!
Eussiez-vous eu, d'ailleurs, I'invention qu'il faut
Pour pouvoir là, devant ces nobles galeries,
Me servir toutes ces folles plaisanteries,
Que vous n'en eussiez pas articulé le quart
De la moitié du commencement d'une, car
Je me les sers moi-même, avec assez de verve
Mais je ne permets pas qu'un autre me les serve.

DE GUICHE, voulant emmener le vicomte pétrifié.
Vicomte, laissez donc !

LE VICOMTE, suffoqué.
Ces grands airs arrogants !
Un hobereau qui... qui... n'a même pas de gants !
Et qui sort sans rubans, sans bouffettes, sans ganses !
...

Pour Ndack et Bouba - Poème

Si je pouvais offrir des mots
À ces deux tourtereaux
Je ne parlerais pas d'amour
De passion - C'est si conventionnel!
ni même de "toujours"...

Tout ému, je leur offrirai un bouquet
De verbes, de fleurs et d'encre
Dont la beauté évoquerait à peine
Leur timide baiser
Et leurs pas de danse

Une gerbe de mots jolis
Qui jonglent et caracolent
S'envolent en mille morceaux,
Accompagnerait ces paroles
-Et ce n'est pas fini!

J'ajouterais - petite touche personnelle,
Des tiges de silène
Au long ruban
Bleu, noir et blanc de livres et de musique.
Enfin, coras, balafons et musiques
Amis, sport et famille, évidemment
Scelleraient à jamais le noeud de mon cadeau.

JET rhymes II - Poème

Before you read this, please read the entry at JET Rhymes

-----Original Message-----
From: One
Sent: March 20, 2009 1:47 PM
To: Another

I hope that your day is going great

Maybe this weekend we’ll go on a *date*

I got the movie from Coreen

You know that one we want to see!

The day’s been great, much less stressed,

And what about you, do you still need some rest?

I wondered if you ate your carrots yet

Since I haven’t seen the container I was going to take a bet

I met Teresa for some lunch

Since it was too late to have some brunch

The day is winding to an end

I’ve work to do, so now I’ll hit *send*



---------- Original message ----------
From: Another
Date: 2009/3/20
To: One


Hello Dear One, this is your Another
Who is okay but bored, and a little tired and "under"
Thanks for your rhymes and your nice poem
They look like a bouquet of roses or a big red stem

I checked the fridge, craving for something light

I saw them hiding and could not resist the internal fight

It is a really strange thing you and I have here
An intriguing expression of the bond we share
That thing we call "JET connection", you know
A powerful wave of love, a warm and invisible flow...

I checked the fridge, craving for something light

I saw them hiding and could not resist the internal fight

Few minutes ago I took a little break

Went to the board room, sat down and ate
I savoured them as you're writing to me
I cracked jokes and I cracked carrots to improve how I see

They had to go, no more illusion
Get in my stomach, better my vision

I thought about the rhymes we exchanged before
Back to the office, oh surprise! I had my "encore"
You had sent me nicer words than I could ever dream of
My blues, my lack of energy and my fatigue took off

They had to go, no more illusion
Get in my stomach, better my vision

The container now sits on my desk, empty
It's coming back home to my one-and-only
The rest of the day is definitely going to be great
And since you won your bet, we're going on a date!

De l'universalité de l'humain

Le plus difficile en tant que nouveau citoyen d'un pays est sans doute la question de l'identité. La "génération zéro" n'a de cesse de chercher à se définir. Tous les aspects de la personne sont ébranlés et des textes comme celui-ci rassurent certainement un peu dans la mesure où ils ramènent à l'universalité de l'humain. Dès lors, ce qui importe pour l'immigrant n'est plus seulement de savoir à quel territoire ou à quelle nation il appartient, mais de se rappeler qu'il fait également partie d'un ou plusieurs groupes sociaux de par sa religion, ses intérêts, ses familles et ses passions.

« (…) la fonction sociale de la poésie en pays wolof ne fait aucun doute car le poète se veut d’abord un facteur de cohésion du tissu social. D’où la volonté didactique qui transparaît dans chaque œuvre.
(…) Tout art est engagement ; engagement de soi dans l’approche de l’autre qu’on veut séduire, combattre ou convaincre. (…) La création est un acte libre. Le poète ne se devrait d’avoir qu’une seule exigence: répondre à ce qui l’interpelle directement. Même s’il s’agit de faire de l’art pour le seul plaisir de ses sens.
Au delà de la poésie, toute œuvre: musicale, littéraire ou plastique qui obéit à une commande sans que l’âme du créateur y soit, trahit l’Art dont l’essence est la Liberté. »

Amadou Guèye Ngom, Critique social
Publié par Ndack dans La crise, un prélude à une autre page d'histoire

Is there such thing as Islamic humour?

J'ai quelques amis chrétiens auxquels je me demande si je peux envoyer ceci.

Je veux faire pareil...

Le Pape sentant sa dernière heure arrivée, envoie une invitation à un Assureur et à un Banquier, parmi les plus renommés de Rome.Il leur demande à chacun de venir vite le voir...Dès leur arrivée, on les conduit dans la chambre où repose le Pape et on les fait asseoir de chaque côté du lit.Le Pape leur lance un regard intense, sourit, puis regarde au plafond. Pendant un certain temps, ni l'assureur ni le Banquier ne disent mot. Ils semblent touchés que le Pape ait pu penser à eux sur son lit de mort...tout en étant très intrigués.Finalement, l'assureur, n'en pouvant plus, demande au pape :- Votre Sainteté ! Pourquoi sommes-nous là ?Le Pape, rassemblant ses dernières forces, lui répond très faiblement :- Jésus est mort... entre 2 voleurs... Je veux faire pareil...

Comme il faut savoir rire de soi en s'instruisant, voici également: Islamic Humour
[from warious sources]

Many people (in the West), who have been hugely influenced by negative media stereotypes of Muslims, believe that Muslims are not humorous people. Contrary to this belief, Muslims actually enjoy a laugh!! Although after saying this, Muslims do abide by some basic rules on making jokes (such as humour being within the limits of Islamic tolerance, and not going beyond the bounds of truth.)

Below are a nice collection of Islamic ancedotes and humorous stories. If you know of any humorous jokes or ancedotes, then please do send them in to me!

Most of the stories below are of a well-known and much-loved folk hero throughout the Muslim world - Mullah Nasruddin. Sometimes he seems foolish, but really he is wise. Stories like this one are told from China to Africa, and beyond.

Nasruddin Goes Fishing
One day, Mullah Nasruddin decided to go fishing. He called upon his good friend Rabbi Moishe, got their poles and bait together, rented a small rowboat at the local harbor, and off to sea they went. After an amazing afternoon of fishing, the two men had caught thirty fish. An elated Mullah Nasruddin said to Rabbi Moishel, "Better mark this spot so we can come here tomorrow!"
The next day Mullah Nasruddin met up with Rabbi Moishe at the rental harbor for another day of fishing.
"Did you mark the spot?" Mullah Nasruddin asked Rabbi Moishe confidentially.
"Of couse," replied Rabbi Moishe, "I painted a big white X on the bottom of the rowboat."
"You fool!" Shouted Mullah Nasruddin and slapped his forehead, "What if we can't rent that same boat today?!?!?"


Nasruddin And The Judge
One day, Joe Christian passed by a restaurant. He was tired and hungry, for he had had nothing to eat all day. His nostrils caught the smell of the delicious food being cooked inside. He stopped and sniffed, smiled sadly, and began to walk away. But he did not get far. The owner of the restaurant, Rabbi Moishe, came storming out into the street. "Come here!" he bellowed. "I saw that! You took the smell of my food, and you'll have to pay for it!" Joe Christian did not know what to do. "I cannot pay!" he stammered. "I have no money!"
"No money!" shouted Rabbi Moishe. "We'll see about that! You're coming with me to the judge!" Naturally, Joe Christian was frightened.
"Hmm," said the judge, when he had heard the story. "Well, this is an unusual case. Let me think. Come back tomorrow, and I'll pronounce the sentence."
What could Joe Christian do? He knew whatever sum the judge demanded, payment would be impossible. All night long he tossed and turned, unable to sleep for worry.
When dawn came he made his way to the judges court. As he passed by a mosque he spotted a familiar figure - Mullah Nasruddin. Suddenly, his heart lifted. For he knew that Mullah Nasruddin was a clever man, who was sure to be able to think of a way around the problem. He poured out his story, and Mullah Nasruddin agreed to come to the court and speak for him.
Rabbi Moishe was already at the court, chatting with the judge. Joe Christian saw that they were friends, and feared the judgment would go against him. He was right. The judge began heaping insults upon Joe Christian as soon as he saw him, and ordered him to pay a very large sum of money. At once, Mullah Nasruddin stepped forward. "My lord," he said to the judge. "This man is a good friend of mines. Allow me to pay in his place."
Then Mullah Nasruddin took a small bag of coins from his belt and held it next to Rabbi Moishe's ear. He shook the bag, so that the coins jingled. "Can you hear that?" asked Mullah Nasruddin.
"Of course," replied Rabbi Moishe, impatiently.
"Well, that is your payment," said Mullah Nasruddin. "My friend here, has smelled your food, and you have heard his money. The debt is paid."
And, in the face of such argument, the case was settled and the Joe Christian went free.


Nasruddin's Friendly Neighbour
One day, for one some reason or another, Mullah Nasruddin goes around to Rabbi Moishe's house and asks if he can borrow a pot for a day or two. His neighbour knowing Mullah Nasruddin is reluctant, but eventually agrees as they've been close friends for many years. The very next day, Mullah Nasruddin returns two pots and explains to the over-delighted Rabbi Moishe that the first pot gave birth to the second pot.
A week later, Mullah Nasruddin asks Rabbi Moishe if he can borrow two pots. Rabbi Moishe immediately agrees – for the obvious reason.
But to Rabbi Moishe's dismay, Mullah Nasruddin never returns the pots, so he asks Mullah Nasruddin if he can have his pots back, but the Mullah Nasruddin explains that tragically both pots have died.
Rabbi Moishe is incensed. "How can a pot die?" he demands.
"You believed it when a pot gave birth," said Mullah Nasruddin. "Why should you not believe that a pot dies?"


Nasruddin's Clever Wife
Mullah Nasruddin was standing outside the mosque after prayer. He had told his wife to meet him outside of the door, but after fifteen minutes she had not shown. He saw his friend Jafar coming out of the door. "salam alaikum, brother," Mullah Nasruddin said respectfully, "I wonder, did you happen to see my wife inside the mosque?
"I'm sorry, I didn't, but I'm sure she'll be right out." Jafar replied, and walked upon his way.
Mullah Nasruddin waited for fifteen minutes, but his wife did not show. He then saw his friend Nabil walk out of the door.
"Salam alaikum, brother," Mullah Nasruddin said respectfully, "I wonder, did you happen to see my wife inside the mosque?
"I'm sorry, I didn't, but I'm sure she'll be right out." Nabil replied, and walked upon his way.
Mullah Nasruddin waited for fifteen more minutes, but his wife did not show. He then saw the Imam coming out the door. The Imam locked the mosque door behind him.
"Salam Alaikum Sheikh," Mullah Nasruddin said respectfully, "I am looking for my wife. Do you by chance, know where she went?"
"I'm sorry, no one is left in the Mosque," replied the Imam, "All have gone for the night." and he walked upon his way.
Full of anger, Mullah Nasruddin walked home alone. When he got there, his wife was standing outside the door.


Nasruddin and His Donkey
Rabbi Moishe, in need of a donkey, went around to Mullah Nasruddin's farm to ask him if he could borrow his donkey for a day or two. Mullah Nasruddin came up with the excuse that someone had already borrowed his donkey.
Just as Mullah Nasruddin uttered these words, his donkey started braying in his backyard. Hearing the sound, Rabbi Moishe gave him an accusing look, to which Mullah Nasruddin replied: "I refuse to have any further dealings with you since you take a donkey's word over mine."


Nasruddin's Car Drive
Mullah Nasruddin and his wife are in their car driving.
Suddenly his wife screams, "STOP THE CAR!!!"
"What is it?" Mullah Nasruddin asks.
"Turn around and go back home!! I forgot to turn off the oven!! The house will burn down!!!"
Mullah Nasruddin kept on driving.
"Why aren't you turning around?"
"The house won't burn down..." Mullah Nasruddin replied. "...I forgot to turn off the shower."


Nasruddin's Conversation
Mullah Nasruddin was walking down a street when he bumps into Umar Abdullah, a convert/revert to Islam.
"Salam-Alaikum brother Umar!" Mullah Nasruddin said excitedly.
"Alaikum-salam, brother!" replied Umar.
"I have this question I have been wanting to ask you for a LONG LONG time, and now, since you are here, may I ask it?"
"Go ahead, brother, you may." replied Umar.
"When you became a Muslim, did you cry?"
"Indeed I did." replied Umar.
"ME TOO! ME TOO!" exclaimed Mullah Nasruddin excitedly.


The Inter-Faith Discussion
Rabbi Moishe, Joe Christian and Mullah Nasruddin were having a discussion about who was the most religious.
"I was riding my camel in the middle of the Sahara," exclaimed Mullah Nasruddin. "Suddenly a fierce sandstorm appeared from nowhere. I truly thought my end had come as I lay next to my camel while we being buried deeper and deeper under the sand. But I did not lose my faith in the Almighty Allah, I prayed and prayed and suddenly all around me, the storm started to die out. Since that day I am a devout Muslim and am now learning to recite the Quran by memory."
"One day while fishing," started Joe Christian, "I was in my little dinghy in the middle of the ocean. Suddenly a fierce storm appeared from nowhere. I truly thought my end had come as my little dinghy was tossed up and down in the rough ocean. But I did not lose my faith in Jesus Christ, I prayed and prayed and suddenly the storm started to die out. Since that day I am a devout Christian and am now teaching young children about Him."
"One day I was walking down the road," explained Rabbi Moishe, "I was in my most expensive designer outfit in the middle of New York city. Suddenly I saw a black bag on the ground in front . I put my hand inside and found a million dollars in cash. I truly thought my end had come as it was a Saturday and we are not allowed to handle money on Saturdays. But I did not lose my faith in Jehovah, I prayed for what seemed like many hours, and suddenly I realised it was Sunday!"
"When did you become Muslim?" asked Yusuf curiously.
"When I was born!" Mullah Nasruddin replied proudly.


Nasruddin's Vision
Mullah Nasruddin and Rabbi Moishe were traveling through the desert. It was so hot that the air was shimmering. In the distance they saw something black on the ground. Rabbi Moishe said, "It's a vulture." Mullah Nasruddin said, "No, it's a goat." They drew closer, still arguing over what it was. Rabbi Moishe threw a rock at it. It flapped its wings and lifted into the air. "See!" said Rabbi Moishe. "I told you it was a vulture."
"That doesn't prove anything," Mullah Nasruddin. "It could be a goat with wings."


The Train Journey
Rabbi Moishe, Mullah Nasruddin and a Nun were sitting together in a carriage in a train going through Jerusalem.
Suddenly the train went through a tunnel. As it was an old style train, there were no lights in the carriages and it went completely dark. Then there was this kissing noise and the sound of a really loud slap.
When the train came out of the tunnel, the Nun and Rabbi Moishe were sitting as if nothing had happened, and Mullah Nasruddin had his hand against his face as if he had been slapped there.
Mullah Nasruddin was thinking: 'Rabbi Moishe, must have kissed the Nun and she missed him and slapped me instead.'
The Nun was thinking: 'Mullah Nasruddin must have tried to kiss me and actually kissed Rabbi Moishe and got a slap for it.
Rabbi Moishe was thinking: 'This is great. The next time the train goes through a tunnel I'll make that kissing noise and slap Mullah Nasruddin again.


A lesson taught
Nasruddin went to a public bath. The servant didn?t pay any attention and didn?t serve him when Nasruddin was leaving the bath, he gave ten Dinars to the servants.The attendants were surprised and happy. Next week when he again went to the bath all the services were provided to him. Every one was having a sense of inferiority. But Nasruddin on leaving the place gave only one Dinar to them. The servants and the owner were very much bewildered and asked, "What is the reason for the uncalled bonus of last week and improper behavior this week?" Nasruddin replied, "I paid today?s wage last week and last week?s wage today so that you learn to behave politely with your customers!"


Rescuing the moon
Nasruddin was looking at the image of the moon in a well. He thought it was a recompense to take out the moon from the well. Therefore, he threw a rope inside the well and swung it a few times. Incidentally, the tip of the rope got caught to a big stone. He tried to take the rope out. Hence he pulled it with a lot of force. The rope tore off and he fell on his hack to the ground. When he looked at the sky, he saw the moon and said, "Doesn?t matter. My efforts were not wasted. Though I faced a lot of difficulties, I finally succeeded to rescue the moon."


Lack of Time
Once a person slapped Nasruddin in the street. Later he came back and started to apologize and said that he had mistaken Nasruddin for some one else. But Nasruddin was not satisfied and took tight hold of his collar, took him to the judge and told the judge about the incident. The judge ordered, "Nasruddin must slap that person to avenge. But Nasruddin didn?t get satisfied. Thus the judge ordered the person to give Nasruddin a gold coin in lieu of the slap. The accused had to go out of the court to bring the gold coin. Nasruddin waited for sometime. The accused didn?t come back. Nasruddin stood up and slapped the judge on his face and said, "Since I have a lot of work, whenever that person Comes and brings the coin, You take the money for this slap."


Mullah Nasrudin and the The Burglar
A thief went to Nasrudin's house and carried away almost all the possessions of the mullah to his own home. While Nasrudin had been watching from the street. After a few minutes Nasrudin took up a blanket, followed him, went in to his house, lay down and pretended to go to sleep. The thief asked Mullah, "who are you? And what are you doing in my house?" Mullah replied, "we were moving into your house, weren't we?"


Real Evidence
A neighbour called on Nasrudin. "Mulla, I want to borrow your donkey." "I am sorry," said the Mullah, "but I have already lent it out." As soon as he had spoken, the donkey brayed. The sound came from Nasruding?s stable. "But Mulla, I can hear the donkey, in here!" As he shut the door in the man?s face, Nasrudin said, with dignity: "A man who believes the word of a donkey in preference to my word does not deserve to be lent anything."


A Dinner of Smells
Once, long ago, a very fine and expensive restaurant stood on a busy street in a bustling market town. One day, a poor man passed by this restaurant. He was tired and hungry, for he had had nothing to eat all day. His nostrils caught the smell of the delicious food being cooked inside. He stopped and sniffed, smiled sadly, and began to walk away.
But he did not get far. The owner of the restaurant came storming out into the street.
"Come here!" he bellowed. "I saw that! You took the smell of my food, and you'll have to pay for it!"
The poor man did not know what to do.
"I cannot pay!" he stammered. "I have no money!" "No money!" shouted the restaurant owner. "We'll see about that! You're coming with me to the Qadi!
A Qadi is a judge in a Muslim court. Naturally, he is very powerful, and the poor man was frightened.
"Hmm," said the Qadi, when he had heard the story. "Well, this is an unusual case. Let me think. Come back tomorrow, and I'll pronounce the sentence."
What could the poor man do? He knew whatever sum the Qadi demanded, payment would be impossible.
All night long he tossed and turned, unable to sleep for worry. When dawn came he said his prayers and, tired and dejected, made his way to the Qadi's court.
As he passed the masjid he spotted a familiar figure -- Nasrudin the Hoja. Suddenly, his heart lifted. For he knew that Nasrudin was a clever man, who was sure to be able to think of a way around the problem. He poured out his story, and Nasrudin agreed to come to the court and speak for him. The rich restaurant owner was already at the court, chatting with the Qadi. The poor man saw that they were friends, and feared the judgment would go against him.
He was right. The Qadi began heaping insults upon the poor man as soon as he saw him, and ordered him to pay a very large sum of money.
At once, Nasrudin stepped forward. "My lord," he said to the Qadi. "This man is my brother. Allow me to pay in his place."
Then the mullah took a small bag of coins from his belt an held it next to the rich man's ear. He shook the bag, so that the coins jingled.
"Can you hear that?" asked Nasrudin.
"Of course," the man replied, impatiently.
"Well, that is your payment," said the mullah. "My brother has smelled your food, and you have heard his money. The debt is paid."
And, in the face of such argument, the case was settled and the poor man went free.


The rickshaw ride
Once a missonary on his way to run some errand hired a rickshaw. The rickshaw-puller happened to be a muslim. The christian preacher began to preach the Gospel to the R.P. The rickshaw puller got annoyed and asked the preacher "How many sons did God have?" The missionary answered "One". At this the rickshaw puller got more annoyed and said "I am a thirty year old poor rickshaw puller, I have twelve children. If your God is really as great as you claim him to be, then how come he has only one son?"


If Allah Wills
Nasruddin was determined to be decisive and efficient. one day he told his wife he would plow his largest field on the far side of the river and be back for a big dinner. She urged him to say, "If Allah is willing."
He told her whether Allah was willing or not, that was his plan. The frightened wife looked up to Allah and asked forgiveness.
Nasruddin loaded his wooden plow, hitched up the oxen to the wagon, climbed on his donkey, and set off.
But within the short span of a day the river flooded from a cloudburst and washed his donkey downstream, and one of the oxen broke a leg in the mud, leaving Nasruddin to hitch himself in its place to plow the field.
Having finished only half the field, at the sunset he set out for home exhausted and soaking wet. The river was still high so he had to wait until long past dark to cross over.
After midnight a very wet but much wiser Nasruddin knocked at his door. Who is there Asked his wife.
I think it is me, Nasruddin, he replied, if Allah is willing!

And Many more at: http://www.militantislammonitor.org/article/id/2833
or at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/3744448.stm

JET rhymes - Poème

One and Another are bored in their work place. They decide to try poetry and slam...

-----Original Message-----
From: One
Sent: October 22, 2008 2:36 PM
To: Another

I am eating carrots and I don't like carrots.

Carrots are orange and crunchy
They are good for your eyes
It is not a surprise
That I would rather eat some chocolate.

This was suppose to rhyme but it does not
Have no fear, I'm still here.

-----Original Message-----
From: Another
Sent: October 22, 2008 3:12 PM
To: One

I went to get the carrots

of my lunch bag too

and like a little parrot

I'm making rhymes for you

Chocolate is not good

Brownies are better,

Mostly when a sweetheart like you

Makes them with butter

I'm pretty busy,

And I am also happy

Not about the paper

That I'll write later

For my Master course

But cuz we're Wednesday

This means “business” day

And I practice basket ball

So if I'm not tired after it all

There'll be inter...!!!!

-----Original Message-----
From: One
Sent: October 23, 2008 10:30 AM
To: Another

Unlike the carrots the crackers are yummy
They feel real good down there in my tummy
The day is insane - lots of work to do
But now I think of me and you
Meeting rescheduled till later tonight
5 to be exact - I think that is right
I brought an extra key this time
And that will end my rhyme!

-----Original Message-----
From: Another
Sent: October 23, 2008 1:30 PM
To: One

Rhymes are definitely not easy

But when the day is slow anyways

And that I am not that busy

I like to take the time to play.

You did not need the extra key

But "better be safe than sorry"

I hate that I made you wait worry yesterday

the traffic, my humor, It was a very strange day

I was lonely, did not enjoy restaurant's food

It was sad not to be sharing it with you

Tonight I'll wait in the garage

To pay the price of this outrage!

Comprendre la rationalité

"Exprimer, formuler le questionnement t'aide à comprendre. Marguerite Duras a écrit un livre sur le sujet." C'est sur ces mots que mon amie, "l'économiste", m'a rassurée au sujet de mon "besoin d'écrire" et m'a convaincue de me mettre au travail et d'étaler ces mots qui me rongent les doigts. C'était en novembre dernier.

Pourquoi en parler maintenant? Simplement pour semer un caillou blanc dans la mémoire collective. Comme Cendrillon.

Merci Ndack.

Advocacy and interest groups (link)

Hey folks!

I just completed an assignment in Public Policy Analysis about advocacy and interest groups. Between taking care of myself, my work as a public servant and my community involvement (CCEDNet, DevAction inc.), there is little energy left for studying. Check the links!

Email to the PSS Committee of CCEDNet (link)

-------------------------------------------
This is a message I sent as an introduction to a group of CED practioners I recently joined.

"Hello to all,

I am a young CED practitioner living in Winnipeg, MB. I have been a member of the Emerging Leaders Committee since 2006, when I joined CCEDNet, and I was one of the interns of the first Cohorte of the CreateAction programme. As such, I contributed to the Advisory Committee of the project which led to the creation of the ICAN (Immigrant and Refugees Communities Action Network) committee.

Besides youth and immigrant in CED, I am very interested in international and gender-based CED, that I practiced in Latin America, as well as in the Cooperative model. My interest for CED also inspired me to start Development in Action inc., a non-profit which mission is "to contribute to the sustainable development of communities by empowering youth, transfering skills, and promoting youth-led actions for social change".

Based on my experience on CCEDNet's committees, I believe that the continuity of the sector lies in the constant training and the effectiveness of its practitioners. It is this belief which lead me to express the desire to join the Practitioner and Sector Strengthening Committee.

I look forward to meeting you all on October 8th.

Sincerely,
Raïmi"

Biography - summer 08

The most interesting thing I find in writing biographies or introductions of oneself or someone else is the profound introspection it requires. It is an exercice that bring us to the centre of our perception skills, skills about ourselves and about other. "Who am I? Who are those others I am facing? Who do I want to be for those "others"? What if there was other "others" joining these ones?" Hence the difficulty to write a blog about oneself. Mostly, when one is somewhat shy and sensitive to "others'" impressions.

Here is what I wrote for a group of colleagues at the University of Alberta:

"I am a “constant student of life”, curious and interested in a lot of different things ranging from psychology to running, poetry, basketball, languages and management.

After a Commerce degree (finance and management) in Montreal, I studied International Development at the University of Winnipeg and discovered a passion for Community Economic Development (CED), a local action by people to create economic opportunities and better social conditions for the most disadvantaged. I then worked in the non-profit sector for a few years, doing CED work, project coordination and marketing. I am very interested in social economy, entrepreneurship, immigration and youth leadership.

I currently work as an Account Executive for Statistics Canada (market research and custom services) in Winnipeg, MB. I enjoy playing sports and travelling, passions that I share with my wife.

Bienvenue, welcome, bienvenidos

Chers amis,

Ce blog sera d'abord relaté en trois langues, celles de Molière, de Shakespeare et de Cervantes. Je vous souhaite de l'apprécier. N'hésitez pas à y faire des commentaires.

Hi there dear friends,

This blog will first be written in three languages, those of Shakespeare, Molière and Cervantes. I wish you to enjoy it. Do not hesitate to comment it when you want.

Hola queridos amigos,

Este blog será escrito primero en tres idiomas, las de Cervantes, de Molière y de Shakespeare. Disfrútalo y déjame sus comentarios sin hesitación.

Salut, Cheers, ¡Suerte!

Raïmi B. Osseni