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Text:
"The man stood up and gave me the warmest handshake of my life. I was completely confused. For a moment, I thought he had mistaken me for someone else.
Then he said, “It’s such an honor to meet one of Si Mouloud’s grandchildren. My family owes him so much—we owe him our lives.”
I was really taken aback. I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. He continued talking, and I listened, wide-eyed, unable to believe what I was hearing.
Here’s the story he told me:
Back in the early days of the Algerian revolution, his grandfather, Sidali Laouar, was a musician. But not just any musician—he was a member of the resistance. A very handsome man and a gifted oud player, he performed alongside his wife, Lalla Deedee, a singer with a voice so moving it was said to bring people to tears. The fact that they were stunning must have helped too.
Together, they were a beloved musical duo. Their talent opened many doors—including those of the enemy. They often performed at hotels and events attended by French officials. Their popularity became their cover. While entertaining guests, they secretly gathered information. Through coded lyrics in their songs, they passed intelligence to the armed resistance. Their role was crucial in several key operations.
But how does my grandfather fit into all this?
After eighteen months of working as messengers, the authorities caught on. The French police had discovered their secret and were planning to execute them. Sidali and Deedee who were used to the lavish life of entertainers, became fugitives overnight.
One desperate night, they knocked on Grandpa Mouloud’s door. They told him everything. He was terrified—rightfully so. Helping them could mean death. But he couldn’t turn them away.
He let them hide under the stairs in his home. The big house was one of those old style houses with a courtyard in the middle. He tucked them behind some furniture, he fed them, and kept them hidden. The risk was enormous. Any one of the nearby families could have been interrogated. And the French police were not known for their mercy.
A few days later, the police came knocking. They wanted to search the house.
Grandpa was so terrified that his body temperature spiked. He turned red. He was sweating and shaking uncontrollably—he looked severely ill. Grandma Sousou acted fast. She told the officers he was gravely sick, possibly contagious. That scared them off. They backed away and left without searching.
He had saved the musical duo’s lives. She had saved their family’s lives… "
email me: pr.asma.benmoussa@gmail.com
Text: Grandpa Mouloud
Nobody knew that Grandpa Mouloud was a Moudjahid. Well, maybe Grandma Sousou knew, but if she did, she took that secret to the grave. None of her children had any idea, not even my mother, who was the eldest and the most trusted of them all, always by her parents' side. She was her mother’s confident and her father’s right hand,andeven she didn’t know.
But you know what they say: the truth always comes out and this time, it happened in the most unexpected way.
Let me tell you how it all unfolded.
Two summers ago, I went to Turkey for a much-needed vacation. It had been a rough couple of years. The shop had gone under, and we had to rebuild everything from scratch. We went back to the drawing board, searching for a new idea. I had to call in every favor, reach out to everyone I knew, no matter how distant the connection. I worked 80-hour weeks, 100-hour weeks even, for months on end. It was exhausting. Thankfully, it all paid off. By summer, things were finally looking up, so I decided to treat myself to a vacation. I needed to clear my head.
Anyway, back to the story.
I was having lunch at a restaurant in Bodrum when I overheard someone at the table next to mine speaking Dardja, with the very distinct accent of my tiny village. I couldn’t help myself, I turned around and said hello. We all laughed at the coincidence and fell into the usual Algerian routine of: “Do you know so-and-so?” “Oh yeah, I know so-and-so.”
Then I mentioned my grandfather’s name.
Their jaws dropped. It was like they had seen a ghost.
One of them stood up and gave me the warmest handshake I’ve ever received in my life. I just stood there, completely confused. “What is this about?” I thought…
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Text: Holiday Plans
Amina: Hey Lamia! Long time no see. What are you up to these days?
Lamia: Oh, hey Amina! Not much, just trying to survive this crazy week at work. I can’t wait for the holidays. I’m going on vacation to Constantine. I’m super excited about that. I can’t wait to walk over the bridges and under them, and to really take in this medieval city. What about you? Got any plans lined up?
Amina: Well… not really. I’ve been thinking about taking a trip too, but I keep going back and forth.
Leo: Why? You always talk about wanting to explore the country a bit more. Where were you thinking of going?
Amina: My cousin invited me to visit her in Bejaia, but I don’t know… it feels like a big hassle. Flights, packing, expenses—it all adds up.
Lamia: Come on, don’t talk yourself out of it already! When was the last time you actually took a real vacation?
Amina: Hmm… I guess about six years ago. But things are different now. I’ve got so much on my plate.
Lamia: You always say that! You need to take a breather. If you keep burning the candle at both ends, you’ll crash.
Amina: I know, you’re right. I just feel guilty when I take time off.
Lamia: Guilty? For what? Everyone needs to recharge their batteries. You’ve been running non-stop for years.
Amina: Maybe. I thought about staying home, catching up on some reading, or cleaning up the apartment.
Lamia: Cleaning up the apartment? That doesn’t sound like much of a holiday!
Amina: Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I’m not sure I want to deal with airports and crowds either.
Lamia: Fair enough. What if you just take a short trip somewhere nearby? Get out of town for a couple of days, nothing fancy.
Amina: Hmm, that might actually work. Maybe I could drive down to the lake. I haven’t been there in ages.
Lamia: There you go! Just pack light and hit the road. You don’t have to go far to get a change of scenery.
Amina: You make it sound so easy. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.
Lamia: That’s the spirit! Don’t overthink it. Sometimes the best trips are the ones you don’t plan too much for.
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Text: A Beautiful Present
You know those moments when someone does something so thoughtful that it changes you a little bit? Well, that happened to me not long ago. A friend of mine gave me a present — a print of Monet’s Sunrise. And here’s the funny thing — it wasn’t my birthday, it wasn’t a holiday, not even a “thank you” kind of gift. It was just because I had mentioned it once, in passing, during a random conversation. It completely took me by surprise and it truly made my day.
When I unwrapped it, I was honestly speechless. It felt like the world slowed down for a second. I couldn’t believe that she had remembered that tiny detail — something I had said without giving it much thought. But she did remember. And she went out of her way to find it for me. That’s what blew me away.
I’ve always loved that painting — the soft colors, the calm sea, the way the light dances across the water. It’s the kind of image that reminds me to breathe, to slow down, to just be. And now, every time I look at it, I think not only of Monet’s genius but also of my friend’s kindness. It’s hanging in my living room, catching the morning light just right.
The truth is, that gift was worth more than a thousand expensive things. It wasn’t about the price tag; it was about the thought behind it. It showed me that someone was really listening. In a world where everyone’s always rushing, scrolling, and half-paying attention, that means the world.
That painting taught me something — that the smallest gestures can make the biggest impact. It reminded me to pay attention to what people say, to hold on to those little details that reveal who they are. Because sometimes, that’s how we show love — not with grand gestures, but with quiet, unexpected acts of care that go straight to the heart.
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Text: Emotional Regulation
Today, I want to talk to you about something we all deal with, but don’t always notice: emotional regulation. That’s just a fancy way of saying how we manage our feelings, especially the difficult ones like anger, frustration, or sadness.
Let me start with a story.
Last week, I was in line at the town hall. I had to get a birth certificate for the nth time in my life. That was already a bad start. It was late, the line was long, I wasn’t sure I would get to the window before closing time, the croud was loud and rude and I had two tired kids with me. One of them started asking to play with my phone, over and over, and of course I said no. She began crying loudly, and I felt my own frustration rising. I could feel the heat in my face, my heart beating faster. My first instinct was to snap: “Stop it right now!”
But in that moment, I paused. I took a slow breath. I reminded myself, “She’s not trying to ruin my day. She’s just tired and disappointed.” By slowing down my reaction, I stayed calm. Eventually, she calmed down too. That’s emotional regulation in action.
So how do we practice it in everyday life?
One simple metgod is naming the emotion. If you feel angry, say to yourself, “I’m angry right now.” It sounds simple, but it actually helps your brain shift from reacting to thinking.
Another technique is pausing before reacting. Imagine you get a negative comment from a co-worker. Instead of sending a sharp reply, take a moment. Breathe. Even stepping away for two minutes can change how you respond.
A third tool is reframing the situation. Let’s say you’re stuck in traffic and you’re late. Instead of focusing on how unfair it is, you might think, “This gives me time to listen to my favorite podcast.” The problem doesn’t disappear, but the stress lessens.
The truth is, emotional regulation doesn’t mean ignoring feelings. It means accepting them and choosing what to do next. Feelings are signals, not orders. Anger, sadness, frustration—they’re information. And once you learn to manage them, you gain more control over your actions, your relationships, and even your happiness.
So next time you feel your emotions rising, try to pause, name the feeling, and choose your response. It’s not easy, but like any skill, the more you practice, the stronger you get.
Thanks for listening.
email me: pr.asma.benmoussa@gmail.com
سلام يا ناس، راكو ملاح؟ لي حبو يقراو إنجليزية،ولا صينية ولا يديرو إستشارة ، تلقاو كامل الروابط هنا لتحت. ولي حبو يكونو سبونسور لحلقة (حتى و تكونو أفراد برك ماشي بسيف عنكم شركة) أبعثولي إيميل:
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Zalamit Method 6-Week English Course Description: https://youtu.be/fJ8-GmLH5ys?si=JKUkgAPezULcXtw-Register for Zalamit Method here: https://forms.gle/DEFTjvEuTq8kBKfM9 Cours de Chinois En Ligne: https://forms.gle/QGbdgu2PxNSwwLPr9تحبو نكمل القصرة في الإنستجرام ، مرحبا بيكم: Instagram: Kahwa ou Podcast DZ: https://www.instagram.com/kahwaoupodcastdz/
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"Text: Fad Diets
I’ve been experimenting with different ways to lose weight, and honestly, it’s been a mix of progress and setbacks. I started with strict diets—low carb, intermittent fasting, even counting every calorie. Each one worked for a little while, but they were hard to stick to. The moment life got busy or stressful, I’d slip back into old habits. It felt like I was always starting over.
Exercise has been another trial-and-error process. I joined a gym, tried group classes, even invested in some equipment at home. At first, I was motivated, but the enthusiasm didn’t always last. Sometimes the workouts felt too intense, other times I just couldn’t stay consistent. Still, I’ve noticed that even light movement—like walking every day or stretching—makes me feel better, so I’m trying to build on that.
I’ve also looked into healthier cooking. Swapping fried foods for baked versions, adding more vegetables, and paying attention to portion sizes has been manageable. It’s not perfect, but small adjustments seem easier to maintain than big, dramatic changes.
One thing I’ve realized is that losing weight isn’t just about discipline; it’s about finding something sustainable. I don’t want to be on another plan that I drop after a month. I want habits that fit into my life without making me miserable. That’s the real challenge—balancing health with everyday reality.
So no, I don’t have it all figured out. I still make mistakes, and progress feels slow. But I’m learning what works for me. Step by step, I’m building routines I can actually keep. And maybe that’s the point: not perfection, but consistency. Consistency is key."
سلام يا ناس، راكو ملاح؟ لي حبو يقراو إنجليزية،ولا صينية ولا يديرو إستشارة ، تلقاو كامل الروابط هنا لتحت. ولي حبو يكونو سبونسور لحلقة (حتى و تكونو أفراد برك ماشي بسيف عنكم شركة) أبعثولي إيميل:
Sponsor an episode: Email: pr.asma.benmoussa@gmail.com حجز إستشارة👇Gosra with Asma "Coaching": https://forms.gle/uLxBU9LaPAmbPtMh9
Zalamit Method 6-Week English Course Description: https://youtu.be/fJ8-GmLH5ys?si=JKUkgAPezULcXtw-Register for Zalamit Method here: https://forms.gle/DEFTjvEuTq8kBKfM9 Cours de Chinois En Ligne: https://forms.gle/QGbdgu2PxNSwwLPr9تحبو نكمل القصرة في الإنستجرام ، مرحبا بيكم: Instagram: Kahwa ou Podcast DZ: https://www.instagram.com/kahwaoupodcastdz/
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Text: Follow Through
Today we’re talking about something that almost everyone struggles with: how to follow through with your plans.
We’ve all been there—you set a goal, you feel excited, you start strong… and then a week later, your motivation is gone. The gym shoes are back in the closet, the project is half-finished, and you’re left wondering, “Why can’t I just stick with it?”
The good news? Following through isn’t about having more willpower. It’s about building the right systems. I have six tips to share with you. Let’s dive in.
Tip No 1: Know Your “Why”
Before you start any plan, ask yourself: Why does this matter to me? If your “why” is weak—like “I should do this because other people expect it”—you’ll quit the first time it gets tough. But if your “why” is strong—For example: “I want to feel healthier so I can run around with my kids”—you’ll push through, even when motivation dips.
Tip No 2: Start Small
Big plans feel exciting, but they can also feel overwhelming. Want to write a book? Start with 15 minutes a day. Want to get fit? Begin with one workout a week, not seven. Small steps create momentum—and momentum keeps you moving.
Tip No 3: Create Time Anchors
Here’s a powerful trick: connect your new plan to something you already do. For example: “After I make my morning coffee, I’ll spend 20 minutes on my project.” Your brain loves routines, so anchoring your new habit makes it harder to skip.
Tip No 4: Plan for Roadblocks
Life happens. You’ll get tired, busy, or distracted. Instead of hoping for perfect conditions, plan for the obstacles. Miss your morning workout? Do a 10-minute walk at lunch. Didn’t write today? Jot down a quick outline before bed. Flexibility beats perfection every time.
Tip No 5: Stay Accountable
We’re more likely to quit on ourselves than on someone else. That’s why accountability is so powerful. Tell a friend about your plan. Join a group. Even post your progress online. When others are watching, you’ll feel more committed to showing up.
Tip No 6: Celebrate the Small Wins
Don’t wait until the big goal is complete to celebrate. Finished your first draft? That’s a win. Showed up three times this week? That’s a win. Celebrating progress keeps the journey enjoyable—and that’s what makes it sustainable.
So here’s the takeaway: following through isn’t about being perfect. It’s about staying consistent, even when things don’t go exactly as planned. Know your “why,” start small, anchor your habits, expect setbacks, stay accountable, and celebrate the progress.
Remember: consistency beats intensity. It’s not about doing everything at once—it’s about showing up, again and again and again and again.
That’s it for today. If this gave you a boost, share it with someone who’s chasing their own goals.
I’ll see you next time. Until then, keep moving forward—one step at a time."
Thank you for listening and thank you for learning new things everyday :)
سلام يا ناس، راكو ملاح؟ لي حبو يقراو إنجليزية،ولا صينية ولا يديرو إستشارة ، تلقاو كامل الروابط هنا لتحت. ولي حبو يكونو سبونسور لحلقة (حتى و تكونو أفراد برك ماشي بسيف عنكم شركة) أبعثولي إيميل:
Sponsor an episode: Email: pr.asma.benmoussa@gmail.com حجز إستشارة👇Gosra with Asma "Coaching": https://forms.gle/uLxBU9LaPAmbPtMh9
Zalamit Method 6-Week English Course Description: https://youtu.be/fJ8-GmLH5ys?si=JKUkgAPezULcXtw-Register for Zalamit Method here: https://forms.gle/DEFTjvEuTq8kBKfM9 Cours de Chinois En Ligne: https://forms.gle/QGbdgu2PxNSwwLPr9تحبو نكمل القصرة في الإنستجرام ، مرحبا بيكم: Instagram: Kahwa ou Podcast DZ: https://www.instagram.com/kahwaoupodcastdz/
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Text: The Substitute Teacher
"The classroom buzzed like a beehive. Desks screeched across the floor, students shouted to/at each other, someone at the back was playing music on their phone and there was even a ball being passed around.
Mr. Boumaza took a deep breath and stepped inside. He was holding the name list the front office had handed him. It was his first day as a substitute teacher.
“Good morning, class,” he said, trying to sound calm.
No one listened.
A paper airplane sailed past his head and landed on the whiteboard.
He cleared his throat and said louder. “Alright, everyone, please take your seats.”
A few students glanced up. One boy in the front smirked and said, “You’re not our real teacher. We don’t have to listen to you. Who are you even?”
Laughter spread across the room.
Mr. Boumaza walked to the front, erased the board, and wrote in large letters: “You don’t know me but I bet I know your father.”He turned around, smiled, and said, “I’m not here to be your real teacher. I’m here to make sure you don’t burn the place down while she’s gone. Deal?”
Some students exchanged looks. The music stopped.
He read the first name on the list. “Djamila Belaid.”
Nobody looked up. Nobody said a word.
“Belaid? Is your father the dentist or is he the one who has a superette?”
A boy yelled “He’s the superette guy.” and burst out laughing. Djamila turned to him with a frown.
“What about you? What’s your name?” asked the teacher pointing at the boy who had just spoken.
Djamila answered promptly “His name is Bilel Zacharia” and made a face at him.
“Zacharia? Isn’t your family from Blida?”
Correct again.
“I bet you’ll never know who I am.” A tall boy said defiantly.
“You look like a Benbrit. Your uncles were even taller than you but you might get there some day.”
The teacher had now the interest and the attention of the class. He told a few jokes. They laughed.
“Okay, we’re not here only to joke around, we’re here to learn a thing or two about science. So let’s start.”
The students were more willing to listen this time. Mr. Boumaza handed out the day’s assignment, surprised to feel a small sense of control return. He smiled to himself. Maybe it won’t be such a disaster after all."
Thank you for listening.
And thank you for learning new things everyday.
شكرا على الإستماع.
سلام يا ناس، راكو ملاح؟ لي حبو يقراو إنجليزية،ولا صينية ولا يديرو إستشارة ، تلقاو كامل الروابط هنا لتحت. ولي حبو يكونو سبونسور لحلقة (حتى و تكونو أفراد برك ماشي بسيف عنكم شركة) أبعثولي إيميل:
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Zalamit Method 6-Week English Course Description: https://youtu.be/fJ8-GmLH5ys?si=JKUkgAPezULcXtw-Register for Zalamit Method here: https://forms.gle/DEFTjvEuTq8kBKfM9 Cours de Chinois En Ligne: https://forms.gle/QGbdgu2PxNSwwLPr9تحبو نكمل القصرة في الإنستجرام ، مرحبا بيكم: Instagram: Kahwa ou Podcast DZ: https://www.instagram.com/kahwaoupodcastdz/
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Text: Cognitive Biases
"You might not realize it, but your brain is constantly taking shortcuts. These shortcuts help you make quick decisions, but sometimes… they lead you in the wrong direction. That’s what we call cognitive biases—systematic errors in the way we think.
So, let’s break down some of the most common ones.
Anchoring Bias Imagine you’re shopping for a winter coat. The first one you see is 12 000Da. The next coat you find is 8000Da. Suddenly, that second one feels like a bargain—even if it’s still overpriced. That’s the anchoring bias: the tendency to rely too heavily on the first piece of information we get.
Confirmation Bias Now, think about scrolling through social media. You click on articles that agree with what you already believe, and ignore the ones that challenge you. That’s confirmation bias: we search for, interpret, and remember information that supports our existing views. It’s comfortable… but it can also keep us trapped in our own bubbles.
Availability Heuristic Here’s another one: the availability heuristic. If you’ve just seen a news story about a plane crash, you might feel flying is dangerous—even though statistically, it’s one of the safest ways to travel. Why? Because dramatic events stick in our memory and feel more common than they really are.
The Halo Effect This one’s sneaky. The halo effect makes us assume that if someone is good at one thing, they must be good at everything. For example, if an actor is attractive and charming, we might think they’re also smart, kind, and trustworthy—even if we don’t actually know them at all.
The Dunning-Kruger Effect And of course, the famous Dunning-Kruger Effect. This is when people with low ability in a subject overestimate their competence, while true experts often underestimate themselves. Basically—it’s the reason why the most confident person in the room isn’t always the most knowledgeable.
So, why does this matter? Because recognizing these biases can help us make better choices. Whether it’s in business, relationships, or everyday decisions, being aware of our mental shortcuts gives us a chance to slow down and think more critically.
Next time you catch yourself jumping to conclusions or making snap judgments—pause. Ask yourself: Am I falling into a bias trap?"
Thank you for listening.
And thank you for learning new things everyday :)
سلام يا ناس، راكو ملاح؟ شكرا على الإستماع. لي حبو يقراو إنجليزية،ولا صينية ولا يديرو إستشارة ، تلقاو كامل الروابط هنا لتحت. ولي حبو يكونو سبونسور لحلقة (حتى و تكونو أفراد برك ماشي بسيف عنكم شركة) أبعثولي إيميل:
Sponsor an episode: Email: pr.asma.benmoussa@gmail.com حجز إستشارة👇Gosra with Asma "Coaching": https://forms.gle/uLxBU9LaPAmbPtMh9
Zalamit Method 6-Week English Course Description: https://youtu.be/fJ8-GmLH5ys?si=JKUkgAPezULcXtw-Register for Zalamit Method here: https://forms.gle/DEFTjvEuTq8kBKfM9 Cours de Chinois En Ligne: https://forms.gle/QGbdgu2PxNSwwLPr9تحبو نكمل القصرة في الإنستجرام ، مرحبا بيكم: Instagram: Kahwa ou Podcast DZ: https://www.instagram.com/kahwaoupodcastdz/
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Text: Alha wa Chabab
"Wow… I can’t believe I’m standing here right now. Honestly, I used to daydream about this moment all the time. I grew up watching this show. Everyone in my family loves it. I come from a musical family. My dad plays the synthesizer and my mom has the most beautiful rocky voice you could imagine. She’s the one who gave me the love of Rai music. I know some people think that that kind of music is somehow dirty but my mom always said it was the most sincere, bravest, most authentic kind of music. The autotune is just extra, just for fun.
Back when I was singing in parks, or down in the subway station where the sound of my guitar had to compete with trains rushing past, I’d picture something like this. Bright lights, a real stage, and people actually listening—not just hurrying past.
You know, a lot of people doubted me. They’d say, “Singing on the street isn’t a career,” or, “You’re wasting your time.” And, okay, sometimes I doubted myself too. It’s hard not to when strangers look at you like you’re invisible or like you’re a weird creature. But then I’d get those few smiles, or someone would stop and record a video, or even toss me a thumbs-up along with a coin. That little spark of encouragement—that kept me going.
And of course, I had my team at home. My mom, who never once told me to get a “real job,” even when money was tight. And my sister, who probably got sick of hearing me practice the same chorus a hundred times but still clapped every single time. They’re the reason I kept believing in myself when the world made it tough. They have my back and sometimes I feel like I am carrying their dream. I know my mom wished she could be an artist, openly, but she kept her songs between us, like a family secret. I want her to be proud of me.
I guess what I want to say is… this moment feels huge, but it also feels like the natural next step. Because I’ve been preparing for this in every subway station, every park bench, every rainy day when my guitar strings slipped under my fingers. This is what I’ve been working toward.
So yeah, maybe I’m still the same busker, just with better lighting and a bigger crowd. But tonight, I get to share my music with you, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. This one is for you Mom!
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Text:
"Sam: Leila! Wow, it’s been ages. How have you been?
Leila: Sam! I kn
ow, it feels like forever. I’ve been good, just really busy with work. I’va actually accepted a new position in the marketing department and it’s been quite the learning curve. Definitely challenging but I’m loving it. How about you?
Sam: Same here. Work has been intense, but I’ve managed to find time for some hobbies. For a while I did nothing but work and I felt myself going down the slippery slope towards burnout. I had to take a break and rethink my priorities. So now I take time for myself and the things I care about. I actually started learning the guitar.
Leila: No way! That’s amazing. How’s it going?
Sam: Slowly, but I can play a few songs now. What about you—still painting?
Leila: Yes, actually. I joined a local art group, and we meet every weekend. It’s been so refreshing. I have even made a few friends there and even though we have very different lives we have the love of painting in common.
Sam: That sounds great. And how’s your family?
Leila: They’re doing well, thanks. My sister just had a baby, so I’m an aunt now!
Sam: Congratulations! That’s wonderful news. How’s the little one?
Leila: She’s adorable—tiny, but already so full of personality. I am going to go visit them tonight actually. I miss her so much even though I saw her just three days ago. What about your family?
Sam: Everyone’s good. My parents are enjoying retirement, traveling a lot. And my brother moved back to the city, so we see each other more often now.
Leila: That’s nice. It must feel good to have him nearby again.
Sam: Definitely. And what about our old group of friends? Have you kept in touch with anyone?
Leila: A bit. I still talk to Maya sometimes—she just started her own business. And I ran into Tom a few weeks ago; he’s teaching now!
Sam: Wow, Tom as a teacher—I can actually picture that. We should try to get everyone together sometime.
Leila: Absolutely. It would be so fun to catch up properly, like the old days.
Sam: Let’s make it happen."
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Text: The Birds on the Roof
Every afternoon, Amin and his friends claimed their usual table at the neighborhood Café, just across from the hospital. They weren’t doing anything special: just heated debated about the last football match (Classic armchair coaches) , endless coffees that made them jittery, and trying to make each other laugh until someone choked on their Crocket. They were not bad guys, they were just often jobless, annoyingly loud and a bit immature.
One day, Amin parked his old scooter in the reserved staff parking spot. The doctor who usually parked there got really mad and started shouting at him. Amin just laughed at him and that made the doctor even angrier. He thankfully found another spot, parked, slammed the door and stomped away. While mimicking the walk of the grumpy doctor who had scolded him , Amine noticed a boy watching him from the hospital window. He had a shaved head, an IV drip, and the kind of smile you don’t fake.
"That kid gets it," Amin joked pointing at the boy
That moment stuck with him. He couldn’t forget that smile.
The next day, Amin brought a big balloon that looked like an anemic Sponge Bob. Without asking the café owner, he climbed on the roof of the establishment. He stood there holding the balloon and when the boy looked out, he started waving then pretending to have a fist fight with the malnourished Sponge Bob. The boy laughed. Nurses peeked out too and so did more patients. min liked the attention so he kept going. His friends joined him.
One day, Amin and his friends came dressed up as a superheros and danced feminine dances, shaking their bums and youyouying. The patients thought it was hilarious.
People in the hospital began to wait for them. “They’re here!” The nurses would say and the patients would rush to the windows. The grumpy doctor turned out to be a super friendly guy who bought them some coffee sometimes. The café owner gave them free pastries for being “idiots for a good cause.”
They called themselves *The Birds on the Roof*. No money, no plan—just four friends being ridiculous for the people who were suffering.
“We’re not doctors, obviously…Nadir here can barely read.” Amin said with a cheeky smile, “We’re not rich either but laughter is free, bro. Might as well share it.”
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Text: It’s Like Riding a Bike
"They all keep saying, “You’ll be fine—it’s like riding a bike.” Honestly? I’m not so sure. Five years is a long time. Five years of diapers, school runs, nap schedules, and laundry (so much laundry). Now I’m supposed to just… get back on the bike like nothing happened?
I used to know exactly what I was doing. Meetings, deadlines, reports—I could juggle it all with one hand and a coffee in the other. But now? Now I juggle snack times, lost shoes, and toys on the living room floor. And as much as I love my kids, part of me has missed that other version of myself—the one with sharp ideas and actual adult conversations.
But the truth is, I’m nervous. Things change in five years. Technology moves on. People move up. I’m scared I won’t recognize the place—or worse—that they won’t recognize me. What if I don’t fit anymore?
I start overthinking but then I stop and remind myself—these last five years have been work. Hard work. Maybe it didn’t come with a paycheck, but managing small humans is no small job. Patience, multitasking, problem-solving, negotiating, mediating, marketing (Have you ever tried to convince a toddler to go to bed?)—I’ve been training this whole time, just in a different way.
So yeah—I might wobble a bit at first. Might fall once or twice. But I know how to get back up. And honestly? I’m ready to feel like me again."
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"Text: Graduation
I can’t believe my niece has graduated. It feels like just yesterday Salsabil was running around the backyard or zooming on her scooter. And there she was standing on that stage, defending her thesis. What?!
As I sat in the quiet auditorium, memories kept flashing through my mind. I remembered watching cartoons with her, she’d be so restless climbing up and down the couch, imitating every character on the screen. I remembered taking her to the beach and building sand castles with her. I remembered her tears when she fell from her bike ( I panicked so hard that day). I remembered her constantly scraped knees. And there she was, smiling, confident, grown.
My sister, her mom, was sitting next to me, wiping away tears with a tissue. “Where did the time go? That’s my baby who just started elementary school yesterday.” she whispered, her voice shaking.
The judges asked her what I thought were difficult questions. I could feel my sister tensing up, worried about her daughter. But there was no need to worry. My niece stayed calm, she didn’t falter. She answered in great details and the jury seemed pleased with her answers. One of the judges said: “Your defense was air tight. You answered my questions before I had a chance to ask them.”
When they gave their feedback and we heard the long-awaited “Congratulations”, the whole family stood up and cheered. My sister’s Youyous were the loudest I’ve ever heard from her. Salsabil glanced over at us and beamed. That smile said everything. Hard work, late nights studying, friendships made and lost, gratitude, joy, doubt, determination, all leading up to this one moment.
After the ceremony, we met her outside. She ran to us, hugging everyone tightly. “I did it!” she said, laughing, a mix of joy and disbelief.
I just nod, unable to speak for a second. “Of course you did,” I finally say. “We always knew you would. We are so proud of you.”
Looking at her, I don’t just see a graduate. I see the little girl with the roller skates and I am blinded by how bright her future is. "
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I don’t know what I was thinking. Honestly, I just went to the mall to clear my head. Get a coffee, maybe window-shop. And somehow, I walked out carrying a bag, a new pair of pants, and shoes that I definitely don’t need. I have nowhere to go with a pair of high-heels. It felt good at the time—like I was fixing something. Like the right outfit could magically make everything better. I did fail my exam. I have to face it and wrap my head around it. It’s not the end of the world, I know, but it does feel like it is.
Now that I’m home, it just feels... stupid. The bag is nice, sure, but I already have one just like it. The pants? Tight. Too tight. I knew it in the fitting room, but I convinced myself otherwise. They might fit in two months if I actually stop having late-night snacks, but right now? They’re just sitting on my bed judging me. And the shoes? Beautiful. Completely unnecessary. And overpriced.
It’s not just about the money—though, honestly, I could have used that for something smarter. It’s the feeling underneath it. Like I was trying to fill some weird empty space with shopping bags. And now I’m sitting here surrounded by them, wondering what exactly I thought I was buying. Confidence? Control? A better version of myself?
I do this though, no matter what mood I am in. If I am happy, I go out and shop to celebrate. If I’m sad, I go for retail therapy. I’m tired of this cycle—buy, regret, repeat. Next time I feel stressed, I’m going to the park or I’ll call a friend. I’m not running to the nearest store pretending shopping is the answer.
I just want to start spending my time—and my money—on things that actually matter. Things that still feel good after I’ve brought them home."
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Text: The Sleepover
“You ask her!”
“No! You ask her.”
“She’s gonna say no.”
“We won’t know until we try.”
Djawed and Racim tiptoed to their mom. They wanted to ask her if they could stay at their cousin’s house for a sleepover. Before coming for this visit, she had asked them to behave themselves. During the visit, she gave them “the look” several times so they stop misbehaving. But they have driven her crazy the whole time—they spilled juice, jumped on the couch, played soccer in the hallway, told family secrets and asked for seconds. One could forgive the kids for anything, except asking for seconds.
“Mama… can we stay for a sleepover? Please?” said the boys
Their mom laughed. “After the mess you made today? No way.”
The boys looked down. Then Djawed said, “We promise to help clean up.”
“And no fighting,” Racim added quickly.
Their mom continued smiling but it was a cold smile. “Put your shoes on. We’re leaving.” she said firmly.
“Come on, let them stay! Don’t you remember the mess we used to make a Uncle Faycal’s house?”
She turned to see her brother.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“It’s no bother at all. Kids will be kids. We have to let them be kids.”
“Alright” She whispered.
“YES!” the boys shouted and ran off to their cousin’s room.
That night, the boys played video games, made instant noodles, and built a fort in the living room. They played music, they danced, and they told all sorts of stories. They made their beds on the floor using lots of soft blankets and pillows.
When the lights went out late at night and the room grew quiet, Racim whispered to Djawed, “I can’t sleep. I want to call Mama.”
“No way! Don’t ruin this for us. Just stay put until the morning. Everything is fine. I am here, you’re safe. Everything will be okay.” Said Djawed. And he started telling his younger brother a soothing story until he drifted to sleep.
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Text:
" You know, people always say that having a steady government job is the safe option. A regular paycheck, health insurance, paid holidays… sure, that sounds good. But here’s the thing — when you work for the government, or for a private company for that matter, there’s a limit to what you can accomplish. You're following their rules, their schedule, their vision. You trade your time and energy for a monthly wage, and most of the time, you don’t even get a thank you. I mean, you could push hard to make an impact but it can be so hard going against the grain. Plus, it could all go to waste if a higher up decides to block your ideas and initiatives. There’s also a limit to how much you can earn and
I don’t like that.
when you work for yourself? It’s different. You’re the boss. You decide when to wake up, how to spend your time, and what projects to take on. If you want to try a new idea, no one says no. You just go for it. Only the market can decide. Every hour you work is an investment in your future, and the future of your family. There’s no limit on how much you can grow and how much you can make. That’s really motivating.
Sure, it’s not easy. There’s risk. There’s stress. Some days, you might make nothing. But then one day, a client says yes, or your product sells out, or your idea finally works—and that success is yours. All yours. And for me, nothing compares to that feeling.
Freedom, growth, creativity — that’s what I get from working for myself. I guess, at the end of the day, it’s a question of personality. It’s a personal preference. I personally can’t stand the feeling of stagnation. I had a government job for years but I ended up quitting. I worked hard but I felt like I was just spinning my wheels. My colleagues loved lounging, drinking coffee and gossiping. What was a pleasant life of low stress for them was a nightmare for me. I felt antsy and burnt out from boredom. Everyone thinks that you can only burn out from working too much. How about from doing nothing? Or doing something that is meaningless to you? So, what they call “the safe job” was unsafe for my mental health. I had to go.
Anyways, I’ve learned more, grown faster, and felt more alive in the past five years of having my own business than in all my years behind someone else’s desk. I am grateful for what I’ve learned there but it wasn’t sustainable for me. So no, it’s not always safe. But I’d rather do this than anything else in the world. "
Text: On Fridays, Our House is a Zoo
Most people get Fridays off so they are special for almost everyone. But at our house, they’re not just special—they are wild. Every Friday, our big family gathers, and it’s chaos.
Mom wakes up early to prepare couscous. The smell of spices and the heat of the steam fill the kitchen. Dad sweeps the patio. All the cousins love to run around and play there. Grandma, who lives with us, makes some Halwet Ettabaa. Everyone loves those cakes. My siblings and I get ready for the mess that’s about to happen. Manel, my older sister, hides all the valuables and all the breakables. “Can’t trust those kids!” She says every single time.
Around noon, the first knock comes. It’s Uncle Karim and his family. Aunt Leila is carrying trays of sweets, and their twins rush past her to grab the best seats in the living room. “Don’t break anything!” Aunt Leila shouts, but the kids are already jumping on the couch. More cars pull up. Aunt Sarah’s car is very full. She has five children. The house fills up quickly.
The uncles go to the nearby mosque for the Friday prayer. They eat when they come back. The aunts gather in the kitchen, laughing and telling stories as they help Mom with the food. The cousins play noisy games, and someone always ends up crying.
When lunch is served, it’s pure madness. Plates are passed around, kids argue over who gets the most meat, and the youngest ones spill juice everywhere. But somehow, we all fit, squished together on chairs, couches, and even the floor, we are all full and we are all happy.
After lunch, the noise doesn’t stop. The kids race outside, chasing each other and yelling. The adults relax with coffee and pastries, still talking, still laughing.
By the evening, the house looks like a battlefield—crumbs on the floor, cushions out of place, and tired faces everywhere. But as the last car drives away, I can’t help but smile.
Every Friday, our place is a zoo. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
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Text: We Make a Good Team
"Soraia and Fatma worked in the same advertising company. They were great teammates. One day, their boss called them into his office. He said it was urgent.
“Brace yourself, this is gonna be bad.” said Fatma to Soraia
“We have a big project,” he said. “Bimo wants a new ad campaign. We need something fun and exciting to show why people love their biscuits! Oh, also, they want it by Sunday!”
Soraia clapped her hands. “That sounds amazing!”
Fatma nodded. “But also a little scary. We don’t have much time.”
Soraia smiled. “Don’t be a wet blanket! This is a great opportunity to showcase our talent. Let’s be positive!”
They got to work right away. Soraia sketched ideas for posters and videos. She was the artistic one. She drew smiling kids dunking Bimo biscuits into their cups of milk. Fatma wrote catchy slogans like “Bimo: The Taste of Childhood,the Taste Happiness!”
By the end of the day, they had lots of great ideas. “This is going to be amazing!” Soraia said.
The next morning, disaster struck. Soraia opened her laptop and gasped. “Oh no! The designs are gone!”
Fatma rushed over. “What happened?”
“I don’t know! Maybe my computer crashed.”
Fatma took a deep breath. “Good thing I prepared for the worst. I saved everything on my USB drive. I knew something bad would happen.”
Soraia sighed in relief. “Fatma, you’re a lifesaver! I guess it pays to be a little bit pessimistic ha.”
They quickly got back to work. They made bright posters and a fun video showing a multi-generational family sharing Bimo biscuits during afternoon coffee. Even the famous mug with Noah’s Arch was there.”
On Sunday, they presented their ad campaign to their boss. He watched the video and smiled. “This is perfect! Bimo will love it!”
Soraia and Fatma hugged each other. “We did it!”
Fatma grinned. “And we learned an important lesson—always have a backup plan.”
Soraia laughed. “Yes! I’m the glass half full, you’re the glass half empty and together we make an excellent, realistic, safe, wonderful glass haha. We make a good team.”
A week later, Bimo’s new ads were everywhere—on TV, on billboards, and on social media. Soraia and Fatma felt proud of their work.