Tuesday, May 19, 2009
When I first moved to America, * taking a deep breath* my significant other took me to our local and just across the street (from where we lived at the time) thrift store, to buy our new, empty, rented place some cheap used furniture. * and release*
Needless to say I was shocked. ( I cried my eyes out actually!)
A little back ground about me and about where I come from in case you just happened to drop by here today, or if you happen to be amongst the rare few readers who don't know me on a personal level.
I am an upper middle class Egyptian, born and raised in the country. ( Unfortunately, and realistically speaking, class does matter in Egypt. It's almost an entire different culture between one class and the other, even the dialect is different, hence the mentioning of this particular matter. Believe me, all this stuff is going to be relevant, so bear with my annoying details)
In the social class I come from. People never go thrift-ing (if such a place exists to begin with. You do find whole neighborhoods dedicated to second hand stuff but even fanatic thrifters would raise their eyebrows if they go there, interesting cultural experience though) It's really looked down upon, it's viewed as just for people who can't afford to buy new stuff. Add to that that I was relatively a newly wed. Which in my culture even the poorest of the poor go in massive debt to buy their bride or daughter brand new things( not that I agree), probably custom made( which by the way is incredibly cheaper than ready made mass produced stuff in Egypt) * Hmm, this is taking longer than I had in my simple head*
What I'm trying to say or portray to all of you here is, how this ( meaning buying furniture for my new place at the thrift store) was like a slap on the face. And that's if you've successfully deciphered any of the poorly constructed sentences, random ramblings and unorganized thoughts written by a person who doesn't know why she's still wasting precious sleep time writing this very strange and probably disturbing to some(all?) post. Hmph!
Why am I typing all this nonsense you might ask? are you asking? are you? are you?
Well, since you asked! I wanted to share with you how I've really come along way. ( yes I'm totally praising myself. No modesty here. Sorry)
I proudly declare that I am no longer a wimp and that I am now an official thrift goer and lover. And I even re-purpose, re-cycle and give new life to old fraying things.
A couple of months back I entered a thrift store and came out with an old fraying hand made quilt. It had about at least a dozen tiny little holes... I loved it. I loved it because I knew someone spent long nights and days making it for loved ones. I knew that this piece of material carries memories. Memories of maybe little bodies huddled under it for warmth. Or maybe memories of marks and stains from grass and dirt while being spread out in a warm sunny day for a picnic. whatever it may be. Its there. And now I have a little piece of this old life too.
My husband once bought a century old Islamic style rosary for a good some of money. At the time I was so confused. Why would he want worm out prayer beads? I examined it for a while to see whats so special and I could clearly see how some of the beads were thinned from a certain angle from all the use( dhikr) during the years. He was so happy when the salesman dropped it in his palm. He started using it immediately, and he uses it to this day.
This Sibha ( rosary) carries the baraka( good energy) of a century's use. It's value can not be measured by money.
Let me try to end this while I still can...
New/old ( re-purposed and full of life) floor mat for in front of my sink. For all those hours spent washing those precious dishes. I added some batting for heel support.
Thank you for listening (reading).
Btw, I discovered I can set the time on my post and it publishes itself accordingly. So from now on look out for my posts in the morning.