My Writing Story 

I grew up schooling  in Durban,and that is in South Africa  by the way for my international  readers .The school that I attended  was Isipingo Beach Primary School,and that’s my hometown by the way.My parents initially  were brought up the very hard way ,through poverty etc etc ,until my dad was kinda secured after he built  up his own business and established  it many many years ,until couple years ago , well he has retired now .I grew up witnessing the apartheid era also,but my parents saw more of that ,anyways that’s a total different  topic  on its own,will find another day to write  about that,Insha Allah.I  was influenced  to write by by my standard 1 teacher;she had beautiful  writing  as far as I can recall ,and she calligraphed my reports very very well , Indeed she was a remarkable  teacher May Allah grant her long life Aameen! I had very bad writing  initially  in school ,my worst nightmare ,of school was ,getting  hiding from my standard four ma’am  with two rulers on my knuckles, for ugly writing , Oh! my God ,that teacher terrified me ,but everyone mentioned  it was for our own good,those years ;the teachers were very strict  with us,but I do have good memories of my school as well,and slowly slowly my writing improved ,I had a passion  for creative  writing as well ;I used to enjoy writing  lovely compositions.If only I can go back to memory lane to recall what I wrote .I enjoyed   the English  lessons as well ;and used to love grammar  etc ,Spelling  and Dictation was my score points  ,as I was a perfect  speller,but my spelling has gone a bit haywire with today’s  smsing and shortformed texting and lol ,tx ,omg,omw,brb,wud,etc.people actually  murdered that English language, Afrikaans,was my scoring points as well, en ek is baie bly dat ek kan die taal praat, translated  (and I am very happy that I can speak it )I am glad I learnt it as it helped me to communicate  this side Gauteng,where I am now ,  Zulu or Isizulu was the native language  of KwaZulu-Natal Durban ,and we grew up speaking  it , Mina yaaz ga khuluma Zulu futhi, translated ( I know how to speak Zulu too.) and learning these languages are all gifts from Allah! Subhanallah! Now going to standard  five and six now prior  to my teens ,I only finished school till std six,had I finished school till matric I would  have been a mechanical  engineer or auto electrician because I was like a greasemonkey,used to love playing in my dad’s garage,loved the gadgets and the motor  car oil and the smell of petrol etc , and spent alot of time in my dads shop, my dad became a motor spares salesmen in the end , or I would have become a very big business women today but my dream was becoming  a marine biologist or a  an Islamic teacher though, but ,like I mentioned before ,the Author of my fate Allah, destined for me to go study overseas ,  Going to blog about that too ,Catch me in http://www.malegaonjamea.wordpress. com an entire blog where I studied in Malegaon Maharashtra India Enjoy!

I wanted to add this post from another  platform 

Durban my Hometown

I grew up in Durban  😀. 

And I am very proud of my humble beginnings .. a time when everyone treated each other like family, 👫 We went outside to play in the streets , played baseball on the road and soccer in the park and built dens and climbed trees and built tree houses 🌳, we didn’t eat fast food🍟🍔….we ate peanut butter and jam sandwiches, home made food and slap chips cooked in oil 🍛 we got ice cream from the ice-cream van. We played top , marbles, hide and seek 🙈and we enjoyed visiting our neighbors.  There was no bottled water🍶, we drank water from the tap 🚰 if we had a drink we would share the same bottle of juice…after giving it a wipe with our mucky sleeves, We had a tv only to be switched on certain times of the day; rode our bikes 🚲 or played in the rain for hours, “barefoot”.🕰 There was no such thing as a mobile phone or any other electronic device 📵. We weren’t AFRAID OF ANYTHING (except maybe the dentist, our parents and the lone dog that would chase us 😉) If someone had a fight, that’s what it was…a fist fight👊. Kids didn’t have guns🔫 or knives🔪, we played cowboys & crooks. 🏇The street lights 💡were your curfew or until your Mom shouted out the window. School was mandatory, ✏📒. We would not cheek our elders👴🏼👵🏼 because we knew we’d get a klap, with the belt, shoe, wooden or curry spoon.

 Re-post if you’re proud 👉😁 that you came from a close knit community 👭👬👫and you will never forget where you came from! .💓💓💓

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