Nice Women Wear Scarf photos

By | April 14, 2018

Some cool women wear scarf images:

Poetry Thailand Lost In Homeland Rossanee Nurfarida 4
women wear scarf
Image by OXLAEY.com
The poet, Rossanee Nurfarida, was born in Thailand’s so-called “Deep South”. Her first collection of poetry ‘Far Away From Our Own Homes’ was a Finalist for the 2016 South East Asian (SEA) Writers Award.

DONATE to the OXLAEY project: www.indiegogo.com/projects/oxlaey-a-travel-magazine-for-a…

FOLLOW:
www.oxlaey.com
www.facebook.com/oxlaey
www.twitter.com/oxlaey
www.soundcloud.com/oxlaey

Not only does Ms. Nurfarida’s Muslim hijab standout in Thailand, a country made up predominantly of Buddhists. Her verse also tacks a daring course, pointing out how religion can divide the Thai state, communities, and lovers. While most Thai poets have been men employing strict rhythmic structures, Ms. Nurfarida words express a modern woman’s perspective composed in free verse.

In 2017, OXLAEY’s Ryan Anderson interviewed Nurfarida (in English) about her work and the poem, Lost in Homeland. You can watch an unedited version of this interview on OXLAEY’s website.

Nurfarida: My name is Rossanee Nufarida. This is my pen name. I live in Hat Yai, Songkhla, in southern Thailand. I love to call myself a storyteller, because I like to share what I see, what I feel, what I think.”

Anderson: Why do you use a pen name, rather than your real name?

Nurfarida: My real name is Rossanee Kaesaman. Kaesaman is my family name. Do you want to know the real story? The truth is that, when you say I’m from this family, they will know where your hometown is, who is your father, who is your mother. So I want to protect my family. My dad saw the cover and asked me, ‘why are you this name’?

Anderson: Can you describe your clothes?

Nurfarida: Everyday when I go out from my home, I wear this scarf. We call it a hijab. I want to show that Muslims can do everything. When I wear hijab and I work, people are amazed when I interview them They say you are a journalist in hijab. In Thai society, Muslims are like second-grade people. Islam is not a bad thing for this land or this country. I don’t know what the problem is between the religions or different way of thinking, but finally I found that they don’t understand why. Why we have to do this. Why we can’t do something.

Anderson: What was going on in your life when you wrote “Lost in Homeland”?

Nurfarida: [There were] three things in that poem on my mind. The world situation, the refugees like the Rohingya, or another group that has to move. The second is the Thai political situation. The third is, sometimes I feel lost in my own home town. I go somewhere I know. I stand together with others, but I still feel lonely.”

Anderson: How is your poetry different than older Thai poets?

Nurfarida: The old Thai poem style, they have a rhythm. They have strict syllables. My style is free verse. There aren’t syllables or rhythms.

20160526_112638
women wear scarf
Image by Trocaire
Romy Fehily (centre), with her mother and sister, at the Trócaire and Poetry Ireland poetry competition awards event at the National Library of Ireland, Dublin, May 2016.

Romy was 1st place winner in the post-primary junior category for her poem, ‘ Drifting’

Drifting

The rescue boat came slowly in,
Behind it a battered dingy,
In it laid sombre shawls
That once hung on women’s shoulders,
Torn chequered head scarves
That once covered the heads of men,
And tiny sodden sandals
Which children once wore and played in,
Now without an owner,
The personal possessions drift.
A little Moses cradle was placed carefully at the rear,
A baby lay sleeping,
Snuggled up warm, cosy and pink,
Dressed for the voyage of promise,
But no one there to care.

Romy Fehily

www.trocaire.org/sites/trocaire/files/trocaire-poetry-ire…

20160526_112615
women wear scarf
Image by Trocaire
Romy Fehily at the Trócaire and Poetry Ireland poetry competition awards event at the National Library of Ireland, Dublin, May 2016.

Romy was 1st place winner in the post-primary junior category for her poem, ‘ Drifting’

Drifting

The rescue boat came slowly in,
Behind it a battered dingy,
In it laid sombre shawls
That once hung on women’s shoulders,
Torn chequered head scarves
That once covered the heads of men,
And tiny sodden sandals
Which children once wore and played in,
Now without an owner,
The personal possessions drift.
A little Moses cradle was placed carefully at the rear,
A baby lay sleeping,
Snuggled up warm, cosy and pink,
Dressed for the voyage of promise,
But no one there to care.

Romy Fehily

www.trocaire.org/sites/trocaire/files/trocaire-poetry-ire…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *