✅ List Dump: 2 August 2026 - borrowing english, translation, a waxing moon, community ovens, doors and windows, unmatchable hearts, 41st birthday on the atlantic ocean,
just a list of things I want to share in no order other than the sequence of remembering
Bismillah. We begin everything with the name of Allah. We recite Bismillah to initiate an act, acknowledging the intention and ethics that follow.
Words (not including the ones describing the words I am typing to tell you about the word count):
1,334
This will be a shorter one because I am dealing with the emotional hangover of my birthday yesterday, but I made a promise to myself, so week 6, let’s go.
Check out the first one, or TL;DR: territorial mice, nipple injury, improv, an expensive orifice, dumplings, games, garden poems, friendship lore, and good times; the second one, TL;DR: spite-based newsletter writing, gil scott-heron and nina simone wish you a happy 4th of july, castle rock, bad dating app AI, bone broth, speech disorders, open-toe sandals, harper’s findings; the third one, TL;DR: cute patio situation in Montpellier, FR, facts about cicadas and acoustic defense, my love of tajin, unpublishing, Pope. L, falling in new york, and my new doggie friend; the fourth one, TL;DR: pigeons, citrus, compost, bad birthdays, making music; and the fifth one, TL;DR: casablanca, unseasoned fish n’ chips, weird skin, basic pigeons of london, an evacuated center, archives and death
I can’t believe I have only been in Casablanca for a week. It has felt like months at this point. Much like when I am in South Africa, many folks assume that I am either a local or adjacent to someone local. I guess I just have one of those faces? And much like in South Africa, where people immediately speak to me in Zulu, folks here speak to me in Arabic. Then, I have to speak up to expose myself as a fraud, a trickster, because I have run out of words. I have exhausted all of my Arabic — Salaam, Marhaba, and Ana bikhair are the limits of my spoken Arabic. The accent begins to protrude like an unsightly sore, and I think there is some disappointment. I met an Amazigh woman from the south of Morocco on my first full day here, and she was confused. We wore our hijab similarly and, funnily enough, have similar-shaped faces and bodies. She asked my host to explain why I was unable to communicate like them, and my host had to explain that I am a Black American Muslim lady. I will not say she was disappointed, but I will say there was some cognitive dissonance.
The July 28th moon here was beautiful. The moon was at its waxing, full phase.
At the Habous the other day, I learned (after translation, of course) that someone asked if they could borrow 2 ounces of my English. I found it funny to think about one’s language skills as a transferable entity. And as transferable, something countable and measurable. I am finally picking things up here, which has been surprising, because I do not think I am particularly good at receptive language skills outside of English and Spanish. I think part of what aids my comprehension is gesture, intonation, and inflection. Even if I do not know what you are talking about, I am learning to pay close attention in other languages, unlike in English. Most of my days are spent in Arabic and French. It is only when I go home to my cute little apartment that I am back with English. I never truly realized the cognitive exhaustion of moving between languages and aurally absorbing sounds that you cannot parse or process. I have been so tired here, and I am just putting it together. This is not a complaint, just a necessary notice.
The Habous had a community oven. If you do not have a stove, you can bring it here, where a man who has memorized everyone’s trays and cooking preferences, places your food in a queue to be cooked in his fire oven. When we arrived, I think they were roasting chickens for a wedding.
And there is a bakery across the way that uses this community oven.
The photographer who led a tour of the Habous shared that doors have specific meanings. There were so many beautiful doors!
Sometimes, they distinguish occupation. Any guesses for these occupations?
And the windows, of course!
Before the Habous, we had a tour of the Medina near the water. The guide, from Mauritania, taught me so much! At the marketplace in the Medina, a group of West African hair braiders gathered in the plaza's center. It reminded me of Harlem. It also reminded me that I need to get to West Africa next year, inshaAllah.
and more doors:
Yesterday was my birthday. Birthdays are very hard for me. And Alhamdulillah, yesterday was gentle. Happy 41st to me. I can’t believe I have been on this silly little planet for forty solar cycles. Some of the sweet gifts I received:
Allah woke me up again.
My baby brother stayed up until midnight in California to call me on the hour to wish me a happy birthday.
Before leaving Montpellier, a friend gave me a Pope. L book almost completing my Pope. L library collection.
My best friend blessed me with a Zulu name. I won’t share it here. This was such a lovely gesture. He’d been holding on to it for a while, noting that I’d receive it when I was supposed to and when I was prepared. The name means a lot and has brought me great joy. Sometimes, I forget who I am or what I mean to people, and this was a gentle reminder.
Had an unfortunate conversation with my best friend’s partner, now my friend :) about the diarrhea bug in America and the other shitty things happening in a place I have not been for almost a month.
I received sweet voice notes and messages from family and dear friends.
I had some pre-birthday sorbet at a local spot here: a scoop of peach and another of citron.
And across the street from Mayli, I saw this way writing:
Amina said it means something like you’ll never find a heart like mine. I decided to spend the next hour breaking down the whole phrase, because I needed a healthy obsessive distraction. Also, I wanted to know what each word meant before I could really understand/incorporate it.
1st word (lām - nūn) ل ن / لن = "will not/shall not" [lan] 2nd word (tāʾ – jīm – dāl – yāʾ) ت ج د ي / تجدي = "you find" [tajdī] 3rd word (mīm – thāʾ – lām) م ث ل / مثل = "like, similar to, the same as" [mithl] 4th word (qāf – lām – bāʾ – yāʾ) ق ل ب ي / قلبي = "my heart" [qalbi] 5th word (alif with hamza – bāʾ – dāl – alif) أ ب د ا / أبدا = "ever" [abada] 6thword (mīm – yāʾ – nūn – bāʾ – rāʾ – tāʾ marbūṭa) م ن ب ر ة / م ينبرة = couldn't find a meaning, maybe a name? or maybe it is (mīm – yāʾ – fāʾ – bāʾ – rāʾ – tāʾ marbūṭa ) because it could be a nūn, but it could also be a fāʾ because there is a loop. Still even with that changed, I could not find a meaning. Or could the first letter not be mīm, but dāl – rāʾcombined? Maybe, this is where I stop searching and accept the opacity. Even without the last part figured out, it means "You shall not find a heart like mine ever."My host, Amina, took me to a restaurant overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I could smell the salty water, and I watched courageous kids launch themselves off cliffs to ride the rough waves. We had delicious sushi, ceviche, and other seafood goodies.
I took a four-hour nap with limited guilt. It was glorious.
The next time I write, I will be in Paris, with a short layover before heading home to start the academic year. All my travel this summer has been for work, but I am hoping to snag a few days (I will even settle for hours) to craft a tiny vacation.
Until next week,
Kameelah 👽
How to cite this newsletter: Rasheed, K. (Year, Month Day). Newsletter Title. I Will (?) Figure This All Out Later. URL