لأنه عندما
لأنه عندما اختفى النهار كان قد ساد الظلام
لأنه عندما ساد الهمس كان قد تلاشى الكلام
لأنه عندما تلاشت الرؤيا بحثنا عن الأحلام
لأنه عندما بحثنا عن السراب كان قد تبخر المرام
دخان ومداخن ضخام
يمضي الليل ولايأتي المنام
قلق، إضطراب، همس وأوهام
تحول أعتى الرجال إلى غلام
Brooklyn, feb 18, 1996
Monday, June 30, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
An art piece in New York حبة جحا
the first one was in China Town and the next was in Chelsea. The artist (Jens Haaning and the name of the piece is: Arabic Joke) put these posters around the city to play on the fear of things Arabic. He selected a traditional joke by Juha.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Cork bombs and the scale of bangs
Cork Bombs and the scale of bangs
From the tales of Abu Hazza' al-Talsamani
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
I took the girl’s hairpin I found on the street and bent it. I made it look almost like a heart but without the smooth curves. The hairpin was made of thin black metal with black paint that was peeled in some spots because of the realities of the street where I found it. It was camouflaged somehow but we found it because we were looking for it or for a type of metal threads that they use on construction sites. The new hairpins are normally shiny black.
Samer looked at Bashar and then took our remaining Falleeneh out of the cardboard box, and placed the pin I handed to him like a surgeon around the firecracker. He clamped the cork putting one end of the pin on the outside and the other over the hot red dot of gunpowder placed inside the same hollow cork. The pressure when the pin would hit the ground anyway you throw the rigged Falleeneh would trigger the explosion that is pretty much like a pistol shot. It was a sound bomb.
Sixteen Falleeneh are usually in every one box. One can buy them individually or by the box, which is cheaper. We always wanted to have the maximum amount of explosions possible and that is why we always tried to collect money from a larger group of boys and mounted our attacks on our targets.
**
They were made in China. Samer had his turn to pick up where to throw the last one we have that day. Bashar threw his last one at the bus stop. I followed with mine at the same spot. We made two consecutive small explosions. It was like some sort of a rifle sound.
The people waiting on the bus did not pay attention to the whole thing except for one man who cursed at those raising us. We ran and decided to go and see what was going on next to the deli close to the bus stop and where many boys and girls from our area would pass by if not hanging around there. There was another store on that block that was made out of four large houses with gardens around them and a well zoned street with a huge line of trees in the middle separating two lines of traffic on that wide and popular street. That was the street that ended to curl in front and around our elementary school al-Ghafiqi.
That day the regulars were not there. They were busy with one of their many fights. Samer, Bashar and I were not into that but liked to watch. We had something else on our agenda.
Samer walked into the store and bought a soda with the reminder of the money he had left. He pretended he was exiting to suddenly turn and throw his last firecracker near the feet of the unsuspected grocer Abu George, who was separated from us by the large fridge. The sound was great because it was indoor and scared the living hell out of the two men hanging out inside the store with the grocer and whom we did not like at all. It was a great plan and execution by Samer.
Abu George did not do much because he was separated, but one of the men started his movement to chase us. They all cursed at our parents. We scared them well this time as we normally do. They were a bunch of snitches anyway, where they never ceased telling our parents about everything we ever did. They also told our teacher since that our math teacher lived next door among other things.
Abu George took our money all the times. His son George was few years younger than us and always played soccer with us at al-Ghafiqi elementary school, the place of choice.
The older rowdy boys always played the greatest pranks on Abu George, and for us to make something happen to him that would make us famous in the hood was a matter of time. We were ready for that and were about to come any moment.
**
We were going to school when we saw his store closed. Normally he would open at 6 am so he could get those going to the Elementary School or those going to the bus station going downtown to work. We had to be at school at 5 minutes to seven when our first class started, and that day we had the time to do our attack and be at school at the same time. That day we wanted to do something we heard about from the older boys. It was the right time and place.
We had the glue for the art class the rest was history. Abu George came to see his lock sealed where it took him half a day pouring hot water on it and trying to pick the glue out. He perfected that technique we heard. But it took time and the neighbors were not there all the time to provide the hot water. He never suspected that we would do that and accused the older rowdy crew, who of course did not mind the bad reputation and claimed the attack.
**
Falleen is cork in Arabic and Falleeneh is one cork and it is the firecracker we use. Most of the times we had to buy them from the smugglers because the government banned importing them, but still let the people use them in some religious holiday especially ‘Eid al-Mahyyah. Some toys and variety stores downtown would sell under the counter every now and then, but going downtown was out of question for most of the year. Still, we always managed to find holes and sneak there every now and then.
The day before we saw the smuggler around our school selling banned Red Marlboros and when Bashar asked him about Falleen he pointed to a grocery to get from. He gave us his nickname of course and it was Abu al-Ghadab, which meant the Father of Anger. When we heard his name we did not want to ask for anything else. We wanted to discuss his name amongst us and find who was going to claim it. Bashar was first to claim it but Samer and I resisted. Later that day we decided that none of us should be carry the name Abu al-Ghadab and should look somewhere else. Also, we discussed the money issue to buy the two boxes.
Our plan needed two boxes of the firecracker so we can make the two bombs we wanted to build. We always wanted to create a bang bigger than those we heard around us all the times. We were impressed with the bombs dropped from the planes in the many air raids we witnessed so far. Those were the loudest and scariest ones. Next come those of the big one-barrel anti aircraft gun from the fields and orchards east of our elementary school. Then comes that of an offensive hand grenade, to be followed by the defensive one. The two barrel anti aircraft gun on the hill next to our school would be next to be followed by the four barrel located on the same hill. The Russian rifle comes after the dynamite made and used by the fishermen. Last on the scale were handguns. Many people carried handguns around, but those were mostly army officers, policemen and Mukhabarat or Amn, who were undercover agents. Amn means security in Arabic. Many of those undercover agents flaunted their guns to get certain things among which was bread from the local bakery that started closing early causing troubles to all the boys of the hood who were responsible, like me, for that daily trips to the bakery. The expanding branches of the various branches of the state’s security apparatus put more pressure at our local bakery because it brought many to work in the branch of Security that was located in our hood and on Samer and Bashar’s block. That meant more fights at the limited resources bakery that was meant to service our hood and not the many new arrivals. Boys and older males were supposed to be the ones responsible for that errand for their households. There was Amn Siyasi, Amn Askari, and Amn al-Dawlah branches in our town. Siyasi means political and that branch was downtown. In our hood there was al-Amn al-‘Askari, which meant the Army’s Security. This one is located at the end of the block where Samer and Bashar lived. On our way to school we would pass Amn al-Dawlah, which meant the State’s Security. Army officers and other from different ranks staffed these units and headed them. They all wore civilian clothes. They were armed and there building were guarded very well by men wielding their AK 47s spreading around the hood depending on the looming danger.
**
Samer and I always had the idea of building a bomb but never did it and instead had more fun throwing the firecrackers individually at anyone and everywhere you can imagine. To blow up the whole box at once instead of having 24 different explosions was hard to think about. But, the explosions around us all the time were giving us ideas. Bashar was always against the idea. He was always in favor of coordinated attacks on those who deserved it. Samer and I were positive that we could make a bomb that would sound like a hand grenade. Falleen was the only one good for that plan.
There were many types of firecrackers that reached us every now and then. There were the rockets that whistle upon ignition till it reached its target. We loved those and would fire the one we buy from the roof all the times using bottles to guide the path of the rocket. They were also made in china, and as a matter of fact all of our firecrackers were made in China and brought in the huge ships that we would see in the port. The rocket was gunpowder wrapped around a thin ten inches stick with a wick. The same wrapped gunpowder also came without sticks and those were called Fattush. Those varied in size and thickness with the big ones making sounds just like gunshots and more. They came in packs and sometimes we bought them individually. The best was when one would put 24 of the biggest one together and ignites it in an empty barrel. And there was Falleen, the cork that was empties with the red explosive clay like material placed inside. Those were the best for our plan.
It was a great plan, I thought, because it would make us produce something that would rival many on the explosion scale. All it needed was to empty a large radio battery of what is inside so one can fill that with the red clay gunpowder that we would take out of each Falleeneh. We would stack them tight together and close the top with something soft but tight and upon throwing it the impact would trigger the explosion. No one would be hurt because one can throw the bomb far away and we would do it in an empty space. We also decided to throw them after lunch when people would be home taking naps so everyone would hear it. The place where to throw it was easy to pick. It was around the square in our hood and close to many teachers’ homes as well as to the few girls we wanted to grab their attention somehow. That place would be empty around 3.
Getting the money was to be planned to, and our best bet was to convince Rami, Samer’s first cousin to buy the firecrackers. We knew how to convince him. It was very easy. We told him one story about the smuggler, a man he was dying to meet. He was a year younger than us in school and still in the Sixth grade in al-Ghafiqi. He lived in our hood few streets south of the bus stop that was on the street separating our hood into two zones.
Getting the material was eventful again and was one of the reasons for Rami to put money into the venture. He was not interested in explosions and sounds like we did. He was more interested into schemes to make money and buy and sell things even though he was still in elementary school. He tried to sell us many different things all the times but this time we sold him the excitement of meeting Abu al-Ghadab the smuggler. We knew right away that we had a commodity in Abu al-Ghadab that we could sell to lots of friends amongst whom is Rami.
Abu al-Ghadab did not disappoint us at all. He was dressed in army fatigue pretending that he was an officer with the army special forces and intimidating people around our school while one of his associates another big man with dark sunglasses named Abu al-Layl was doing the selling of the Red Marlboros next to their car that had, of course, fake license plates, something even us seventh graders would distinguish. al-Layl means night in Arabic and if your name is Abu al-Layl you are supposed to be controlling the dangerous elements that is associated with the night. Of course none of us was allowed to be out at night. It was the uncharted land for us all, except for Rami.
Rami bought a pack and offered both smugglers smoke something they did and thanked him for that. They started smoking all together but never gave us the welcome Rami was waiting for. Samer, Bashar and I were in a hurry to get back home so we split to go to the grocery Abu al-Ghadab pointed us to so we can buy the firecrackers.
Rami smoked all the way to the store and then home. Again, the names of the smugglers became the topic of the conversation. They were too good not to be thought off at least for the moment. My brother always made fun of their names. Bashar, again, wanted Abu al-Ghadab and Rami picked Abu al-Layl fast because as he said he is always out at night. That could happen in reality because his father was away working in another country, his mother had divorced his father a while back and the one who is watching him is his older sister because the eldest brother went to the Capital, like my brother, to study in the University. Adding to all of that, their grandmother lived with their other uncle in the hood and Rami did not lack family. He always told us that he was allowed to venture into the night. He said that we should throw the bombs at nighttime.
Rami bought three boxes of Falleen to make three bombs instead of two like we planned earlier. We held the boxes and smelled it. We all loved the smell of it and of course the sound they would make. We handled them with care and decided to put them in Rami’s house till the next day after school. Rami’s sister was very nice to us as usual and made us food and drinks and some of the cakes that she made all the times. She was a friend of my sister who is just older than I. My older sister did not give a good opinion of her and called her a hippie, which she was.
Back home it was the usual, got questioned about my day. My sisters were home listening together to Fairuz and chatting. Fairuz was common ground to everyone in the house, and whenever she was on the radio everyone listened to the songs the memorized by heart. The show they listened to normally would be one of the request shows that my elder sister hated and preferred to listen to the tapes of plays and songs my brother brought back with him and left us. I loved them too. I did not like the radio.
**
School was the same the next day, but we were anxious for the day to end so we can assemble our bombs. We decided to build them behind our old elementary school where there was a large piece of undeveloped land where we played all the times. We also decided to bring Wa’el, Bashar younger brother and our biggest fan and supporter. He was in the second grade in al-Ghafiqi at the time. We also decided to run all the errands have lunch and then sneak out when our parents would be taking their afternoon nap.
The meeting spot was Abu George the grocer where we bought soda and headed to the assembly place crossing into behind our elementary school through the small city park north of the school and across the street from Samer’s home. Rami was prepared and had with him some tools we needed for the operation. He was always ready like that and had lots of tools something of us did not have access too since that our fathers would be taking tally all the times of their tools.
With the hammer and the screwdriver we were able to peel the hard cover of the battery. We found many batteries on the street few days ago and had saved them for this moment. We knew how we wanted to empty the interior that would be filled later with the explosive material after we take it off the firecracker.
We divided the labor. Samer and Bashar were careful as usual but Rami was not. He wanted to make a bomb by himself so he started stuffing the first emptied batteries fast. We, of course, warned him that he might trigger the sensitive gunpowder. He did not listen and what came next made us all laugh and remember up to this day.
The explosion was fast and strong and threw all the coal like material from inside the battery into Rami’s face. We did not move at all. He stood silent and then burst laughing. We all laughed. We told him that he looked good like that and should keep it till he goes home. That happened because he was applying too much pressure unlike Samer who was able to fill the two emptied batteries and sealed them with paper and tape. And, when we walked back to the hood Abu George the grocer took notice of Rami’s face when we passed in front of him and wanted to know the story when we stopped to buy something from him. Rami showed that he did not care and told us that he wanted to throw his bomb into the grocery later when it is empty. We stopped him from doing that and parted ways leaving the two bombs we made with him, since that he was the one that paid for the firecrackers.
On our way home we harassed the dog on the corner and kicked the posts of the bus stop as usual something that gave a sweet sound. A week before we tagged the same post with our initials that stayed there for one week till it was covered with the some flyers announcing a service for a dead person from the hood.
**
My mother noticed the mud on my shoes right away and ordered me to wash them in our front garden and asked me to leave the shoes to dry somewhere outside. I did not want to leave my good Chinese soccer shoes outside. They were black and wore nice when old. I liked them and kept my old ones all the times in spite of my mother’s attempts to throw them away. I told my mother that day that I was playing soccer with the boys justifying the presence of mud. I played soccer almost everyday, but recently the three of us started playing basketball against Ammar the kid who lived on the first floor in Samer’s building, and who was a couple of years older than us and about a foot taller. He was the tallest seventh grader we knew, and he went to school downtown. He also was training with Hutteen basketball team with the 12 to 14 divisions, something the three of us dreamt about being in to no avail.
That day I washed my sneakers outside and tried to walk, as usual, not to draw the attention of my father. He was reading in one of the front rooms of the house in his spot. And when he saw me, he asked me about what I did that day? He always assumed that I had done something bad and his best way to find that out was to start by asking my about my school homework’s.
**
I ate the food my mother had made and was able to watch some television as usual. My father loved television more than anything else and wanted to see the only television channel we get. Our government made sure to block other stations from different countries to enter our homes. The attempts of some people to get bigger antennas that rotate were paying off, but my father never wanted that. At least for that time period.
The official news at eight thirty was also our official dinnertime. All of my four sisters and father would not sit in the kitchen and rather eat while watching television in the living room. And after the news, there was normally the Arabic soap opera, which we were allowed to watch sometimes, and all followed headed by my father. Sometimes, depending on father’s mood or the progress I have done with my homework’s I was allowed to watch some of the foreign language films and shows that came later. I loved these shows and wanted to watch them all the time.
That night it was very obvious. I had came home all muddy and I had homework’s do so television was out of question. I was banned from television all night and right from the time I got in I knew where to go to study and finish my work.
I went and spend time with my older sister who was listening to a play on tape. She helped me with my math, conjugation, physics, biology and history. My other sister was listening to her shows in one of the front rooms pretending she was studying, where my two youngest sisters were watching television and were in bed by ten getting ready to go to school the next day. Both were good students of course.
By eleven I was in my bed reading one of the magazines I had borrowed from Samer that day. It was hidden underneath one of my schoolbooks. My father, who checked on me few times, thought I was doing some math, something I knew that would turn him away. He would rather to be fronted with history, that he read about a lot, or poetry.
I had the latest of Tin Tin the Arabic issue, and which was published in Egypt and reached us to be banned later for its anti-Arab stories, which was true, but for us we did not know or care and all of what we wanted is to know what was going to happen in the stories we followed and which was presented to us as a film story board dealing with different time periods and locations. We visited the world and times through that magazine, as well the few other ones that existed, and which I started reading few years back through Samer who collected them.
I bought some super hero Arabic comic books sometimes, but my father had found the whole stash and threw them away into the garbage.
It did not take me that long to finish reading what happened to the 6 different stories inside the magazine. I have read them super fast when I first saw that issue with Samer at school that day. He had lent me the last issue that I had read many times from cover to cover.
**
I knew it was really late when I heard the sound of two explosions rocking our hood. I could not distinguish them at first. I thought they might be dynamite assembled by one of the rowdy fishermen. I started asking my self-weather that could be a hand grenade or something. But, the sound was higher than that and more muffed and it was higher and different from those of those of the anti-aircraft guns, and which would never shoot just two bullets. We heard those anti-aircraft guns a lot lately trying to fend the city against the raiding jetfighters that were coming more and more.
I knew it was late when I heard the two explosions. TV, which closed at midnight everyday, was long gone as evidenced with the silence spreading all over our house and the hood. Everyone in my house was asleep except for me still thinking about the stories I had read. My brother had been gone for over a month now and the stories and conversations we had every night were gone too and that silence every night made it easy for someone like me to know all the sounds that were invading the night.
Then it came to me that night. Rami had done it and threw the two bombs we kept at his place. He told us that he wanted to throw them at night after we rejected the idea of attacking the grocery with it. Part of me was admiring his ability to be out and never afraid of the night. I was a little because of my super busy imagination.
It was not till the next day that my fears were confirmed into reality. After school we saw Rami waiting for us. He apparently skipped school that day. Bashar, Samer and I had discussed it all day and agreed that we lost our bombs even though both guys did not hear the explosions. I did and they both believed me knowing Rami, who was waiting smoking and told us right away that he went to Abu al-Ghadab and was able to secure a purchase of a better amount of firecrackers. He opened the backpack he was carrying and inside was a variety of them all; rockets, Fattush from all sizes, Night Stars, and ten cases of Falleen. And before anyone of us said a word, since that we were all admiring the arsenal we got, and said that the bombs fell off his roof the night before. We did not care at that moment at all because what we saw in his bag made us think right away with the attack that we planned and which came in full force later.
From the tales of Abu Hazza' al-Talsamani
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
I took the girl’s hairpin I found on the street and bent it. I made it look almost like a heart but without the smooth curves. The hairpin was made of thin black metal with black paint that was peeled in some spots because of the realities of the street where I found it. It was camouflaged somehow but we found it because we were looking for it or for a type of metal threads that they use on construction sites. The new hairpins are normally shiny black.
Samer looked at Bashar and then took our remaining Falleeneh out of the cardboard box, and placed the pin I handed to him like a surgeon around the firecracker. He clamped the cork putting one end of the pin on the outside and the other over the hot red dot of gunpowder placed inside the same hollow cork. The pressure when the pin would hit the ground anyway you throw the rigged Falleeneh would trigger the explosion that is pretty much like a pistol shot. It was a sound bomb.
Sixteen Falleeneh are usually in every one box. One can buy them individually or by the box, which is cheaper. We always wanted to have the maximum amount of explosions possible and that is why we always tried to collect money from a larger group of boys and mounted our attacks on our targets.
**
They were made in China. Samer had his turn to pick up where to throw the last one we have that day. Bashar threw his last one at the bus stop. I followed with mine at the same spot. We made two consecutive small explosions. It was like some sort of a rifle sound.
The people waiting on the bus did not pay attention to the whole thing except for one man who cursed at those raising us. We ran and decided to go and see what was going on next to the deli close to the bus stop and where many boys and girls from our area would pass by if not hanging around there. There was another store on that block that was made out of four large houses with gardens around them and a well zoned street with a huge line of trees in the middle separating two lines of traffic on that wide and popular street. That was the street that ended to curl in front and around our elementary school al-Ghafiqi.
That day the regulars were not there. They were busy with one of their many fights. Samer, Bashar and I were not into that but liked to watch. We had something else on our agenda.
Samer walked into the store and bought a soda with the reminder of the money he had left. He pretended he was exiting to suddenly turn and throw his last firecracker near the feet of the unsuspected grocer Abu George, who was separated from us by the large fridge. The sound was great because it was indoor and scared the living hell out of the two men hanging out inside the store with the grocer and whom we did not like at all. It was a great plan and execution by Samer.
Abu George did not do much because he was separated, but one of the men started his movement to chase us. They all cursed at our parents. We scared them well this time as we normally do. They were a bunch of snitches anyway, where they never ceased telling our parents about everything we ever did. They also told our teacher since that our math teacher lived next door among other things.
Abu George took our money all the times. His son George was few years younger than us and always played soccer with us at al-Ghafiqi elementary school, the place of choice.
The older rowdy boys always played the greatest pranks on Abu George, and for us to make something happen to him that would make us famous in the hood was a matter of time. We were ready for that and were about to come any moment.
**
We were going to school when we saw his store closed. Normally he would open at 6 am so he could get those going to the Elementary School or those going to the bus station going downtown to work. We had to be at school at 5 minutes to seven when our first class started, and that day we had the time to do our attack and be at school at the same time. That day we wanted to do something we heard about from the older boys. It was the right time and place.
We had the glue for the art class the rest was history. Abu George came to see his lock sealed where it took him half a day pouring hot water on it and trying to pick the glue out. He perfected that technique we heard. But it took time and the neighbors were not there all the time to provide the hot water. He never suspected that we would do that and accused the older rowdy crew, who of course did not mind the bad reputation and claimed the attack.
**
Falleen is cork in Arabic and Falleeneh is one cork and it is the firecracker we use. Most of the times we had to buy them from the smugglers because the government banned importing them, but still let the people use them in some religious holiday especially ‘Eid al-Mahyyah. Some toys and variety stores downtown would sell under the counter every now and then, but going downtown was out of question for most of the year. Still, we always managed to find holes and sneak there every now and then.
The day before we saw the smuggler around our school selling banned Red Marlboros and when Bashar asked him about Falleen he pointed to a grocery to get from. He gave us his nickname of course and it was Abu al-Ghadab, which meant the Father of Anger. When we heard his name we did not want to ask for anything else. We wanted to discuss his name amongst us and find who was going to claim it. Bashar was first to claim it but Samer and I resisted. Later that day we decided that none of us should be carry the name Abu al-Ghadab and should look somewhere else. Also, we discussed the money issue to buy the two boxes.
Our plan needed two boxes of the firecracker so we can make the two bombs we wanted to build. We always wanted to create a bang bigger than those we heard around us all the times. We were impressed with the bombs dropped from the planes in the many air raids we witnessed so far. Those were the loudest and scariest ones. Next come those of the big one-barrel anti aircraft gun from the fields and orchards east of our elementary school. Then comes that of an offensive hand grenade, to be followed by the defensive one. The two barrel anti aircraft gun on the hill next to our school would be next to be followed by the four barrel located on the same hill. The Russian rifle comes after the dynamite made and used by the fishermen. Last on the scale were handguns. Many people carried handguns around, but those were mostly army officers, policemen and Mukhabarat or Amn, who were undercover agents. Amn means security in Arabic. Many of those undercover agents flaunted their guns to get certain things among which was bread from the local bakery that started closing early causing troubles to all the boys of the hood who were responsible, like me, for that daily trips to the bakery. The expanding branches of the various branches of the state’s security apparatus put more pressure at our local bakery because it brought many to work in the branch of Security that was located in our hood and on Samer and Bashar’s block. That meant more fights at the limited resources bakery that was meant to service our hood and not the many new arrivals. Boys and older males were supposed to be the ones responsible for that errand for their households. There was Amn Siyasi, Amn Askari, and Amn al-Dawlah branches in our town. Siyasi means political and that branch was downtown. In our hood there was al-Amn al-‘Askari, which meant the Army’s Security. This one is located at the end of the block where Samer and Bashar lived. On our way to school we would pass Amn al-Dawlah, which meant the State’s Security. Army officers and other from different ranks staffed these units and headed them. They all wore civilian clothes. They were armed and there building were guarded very well by men wielding their AK 47s spreading around the hood depending on the looming danger.
**
Samer and I always had the idea of building a bomb but never did it and instead had more fun throwing the firecrackers individually at anyone and everywhere you can imagine. To blow up the whole box at once instead of having 24 different explosions was hard to think about. But, the explosions around us all the time were giving us ideas. Bashar was always against the idea. He was always in favor of coordinated attacks on those who deserved it. Samer and I were positive that we could make a bomb that would sound like a hand grenade. Falleen was the only one good for that plan.
There were many types of firecrackers that reached us every now and then. There were the rockets that whistle upon ignition till it reached its target. We loved those and would fire the one we buy from the roof all the times using bottles to guide the path of the rocket. They were also made in china, and as a matter of fact all of our firecrackers were made in China and brought in the huge ships that we would see in the port. The rocket was gunpowder wrapped around a thin ten inches stick with a wick. The same wrapped gunpowder also came without sticks and those were called Fattush. Those varied in size and thickness with the big ones making sounds just like gunshots and more. They came in packs and sometimes we bought them individually. The best was when one would put 24 of the biggest one together and ignites it in an empty barrel. And there was Falleen, the cork that was empties with the red explosive clay like material placed inside. Those were the best for our plan.
It was a great plan, I thought, because it would make us produce something that would rival many on the explosion scale. All it needed was to empty a large radio battery of what is inside so one can fill that with the red clay gunpowder that we would take out of each Falleeneh. We would stack them tight together and close the top with something soft but tight and upon throwing it the impact would trigger the explosion. No one would be hurt because one can throw the bomb far away and we would do it in an empty space. We also decided to throw them after lunch when people would be home taking naps so everyone would hear it. The place where to throw it was easy to pick. It was around the square in our hood and close to many teachers’ homes as well as to the few girls we wanted to grab their attention somehow. That place would be empty around 3.
Getting the money was to be planned to, and our best bet was to convince Rami, Samer’s first cousin to buy the firecrackers. We knew how to convince him. It was very easy. We told him one story about the smuggler, a man he was dying to meet. He was a year younger than us in school and still in the Sixth grade in al-Ghafiqi. He lived in our hood few streets south of the bus stop that was on the street separating our hood into two zones.
Getting the material was eventful again and was one of the reasons for Rami to put money into the venture. He was not interested in explosions and sounds like we did. He was more interested into schemes to make money and buy and sell things even though he was still in elementary school. He tried to sell us many different things all the times but this time we sold him the excitement of meeting Abu al-Ghadab the smuggler. We knew right away that we had a commodity in Abu al-Ghadab that we could sell to lots of friends amongst whom is Rami.
Abu al-Ghadab did not disappoint us at all. He was dressed in army fatigue pretending that he was an officer with the army special forces and intimidating people around our school while one of his associates another big man with dark sunglasses named Abu al-Layl was doing the selling of the Red Marlboros next to their car that had, of course, fake license plates, something even us seventh graders would distinguish. al-Layl means night in Arabic and if your name is Abu al-Layl you are supposed to be controlling the dangerous elements that is associated with the night. Of course none of us was allowed to be out at night. It was the uncharted land for us all, except for Rami.
Rami bought a pack and offered both smugglers smoke something they did and thanked him for that. They started smoking all together but never gave us the welcome Rami was waiting for. Samer, Bashar and I were in a hurry to get back home so we split to go to the grocery Abu al-Ghadab pointed us to so we can buy the firecrackers.
Rami smoked all the way to the store and then home. Again, the names of the smugglers became the topic of the conversation. They were too good not to be thought off at least for the moment. My brother always made fun of their names. Bashar, again, wanted Abu al-Ghadab and Rami picked Abu al-Layl fast because as he said he is always out at night. That could happen in reality because his father was away working in another country, his mother had divorced his father a while back and the one who is watching him is his older sister because the eldest brother went to the Capital, like my brother, to study in the University. Adding to all of that, their grandmother lived with their other uncle in the hood and Rami did not lack family. He always told us that he was allowed to venture into the night. He said that we should throw the bombs at nighttime.
Rami bought three boxes of Falleen to make three bombs instead of two like we planned earlier. We held the boxes and smelled it. We all loved the smell of it and of course the sound they would make. We handled them with care and decided to put them in Rami’s house till the next day after school. Rami’s sister was very nice to us as usual and made us food and drinks and some of the cakes that she made all the times. She was a friend of my sister who is just older than I. My older sister did not give a good opinion of her and called her a hippie, which she was.
Back home it was the usual, got questioned about my day. My sisters were home listening together to Fairuz and chatting. Fairuz was common ground to everyone in the house, and whenever she was on the radio everyone listened to the songs the memorized by heart. The show they listened to normally would be one of the request shows that my elder sister hated and preferred to listen to the tapes of plays and songs my brother brought back with him and left us. I loved them too. I did not like the radio.
**
School was the same the next day, but we were anxious for the day to end so we can assemble our bombs. We decided to build them behind our old elementary school where there was a large piece of undeveloped land where we played all the times. We also decided to bring Wa’el, Bashar younger brother and our biggest fan and supporter. He was in the second grade in al-Ghafiqi at the time. We also decided to run all the errands have lunch and then sneak out when our parents would be taking their afternoon nap.
The meeting spot was Abu George the grocer where we bought soda and headed to the assembly place crossing into behind our elementary school through the small city park north of the school and across the street from Samer’s home. Rami was prepared and had with him some tools we needed for the operation. He was always ready like that and had lots of tools something of us did not have access too since that our fathers would be taking tally all the times of their tools.
With the hammer and the screwdriver we were able to peel the hard cover of the battery. We found many batteries on the street few days ago and had saved them for this moment. We knew how we wanted to empty the interior that would be filled later with the explosive material after we take it off the firecracker.
We divided the labor. Samer and Bashar were careful as usual but Rami was not. He wanted to make a bomb by himself so he started stuffing the first emptied batteries fast. We, of course, warned him that he might trigger the sensitive gunpowder. He did not listen and what came next made us all laugh and remember up to this day.
The explosion was fast and strong and threw all the coal like material from inside the battery into Rami’s face. We did not move at all. He stood silent and then burst laughing. We all laughed. We told him that he looked good like that and should keep it till he goes home. That happened because he was applying too much pressure unlike Samer who was able to fill the two emptied batteries and sealed them with paper and tape. And, when we walked back to the hood Abu George the grocer took notice of Rami’s face when we passed in front of him and wanted to know the story when we stopped to buy something from him. Rami showed that he did not care and told us that he wanted to throw his bomb into the grocery later when it is empty. We stopped him from doing that and parted ways leaving the two bombs we made with him, since that he was the one that paid for the firecrackers.
On our way home we harassed the dog on the corner and kicked the posts of the bus stop as usual something that gave a sweet sound. A week before we tagged the same post with our initials that stayed there for one week till it was covered with the some flyers announcing a service for a dead person from the hood.
**
My mother noticed the mud on my shoes right away and ordered me to wash them in our front garden and asked me to leave the shoes to dry somewhere outside. I did not want to leave my good Chinese soccer shoes outside. They were black and wore nice when old. I liked them and kept my old ones all the times in spite of my mother’s attempts to throw them away. I told my mother that day that I was playing soccer with the boys justifying the presence of mud. I played soccer almost everyday, but recently the three of us started playing basketball against Ammar the kid who lived on the first floor in Samer’s building, and who was a couple of years older than us and about a foot taller. He was the tallest seventh grader we knew, and he went to school downtown. He also was training with Hutteen basketball team with the 12 to 14 divisions, something the three of us dreamt about being in to no avail.
That day I washed my sneakers outside and tried to walk, as usual, not to draw the attention of my father. He was reading in one of the front rooms of the house in his spot. And when he saw me, he asked me about what I did that day? He always assumed that I had done something bad and his best way to find that out was to start by asking my about my school homework’s.
**
I ate the food my mother had made and was able to watch some television as usual. My father loved television more than anything else and wanted to see the only television channel we get. Our government made sure to block other stations from different countries to enter our homes. The attempts of some people to get bigger antennas that rotate were paying off, but my father never wanted that. At least for that time period.
The official news at eight thirty was also our official dinnertime. All of my four sisters and father would not sit in the kitchen and rather eat while watching television in the living room. And after the news, there was normally the Arabic soap opera, which we were allowed to watch sometimes, and all followed headed by my father. Sometimes, depending on father’s mood or the progress I have done with my homework’s I was allowed to watch some of the foreign language films and shows that came later. I loved these shows and wanted to watch them all the time.
That night it was very obvious. I had came home all muddy and I had homework’s do so television was out of question. I was banned from television all night and right from the time I got in I knew where to go to study and finish my work.
I went and spend time with my older sister who was listening to a play on tape. She helped me with my math, conjugation, physics, biology and history. My other sister was listening to her shows in one of the front rooms pretending she was studying, where my two youngest sisters were watching television and were in bed by ten getting ready to go to school the next day. Both were good students of course.
By eleven I was in my bed reading one of the magazines I had borrowed from Samer that day. It was hidden underneath one of my schoolbooks. My father, who checked on me few times, thought I was doing some math, something I knew that would turn him away. He would rather to be fronted with history, that he read about a lot, or poetry.
I had the latest of Tin Tin the Arabic issue, and which was published in Egypt and reached us to be banned later for its anti-Arab stories, which was true, but for us we did not know or care and all of what we wanted is to know what was going to happen in the stories we followed and which was presented to us as a film story board dealing with different time periods and locations. We visited the world and times through that magazine, as well the few other ones that existed, and which I started reading few years back through Samer who collected them.
I bought some super hero Arabic comic books sometimes, but my father had found the whole stash and threw them away into the garbage.
It did not take me that long to finish reading what happened to the 6 different stories inside the magazine. I have read them super fast when I first saw that issue with Samer at school that day. He had lent me the last issue that I had read many times from cover to cover.
**
I knew it was really late when I heard the sound of two explosions rocking our hood. I could not distinguish them at first. I thought they might be dynamite assembled by one of the rowdy fishermen. I started asking my self-weather that could be a hand grenade or something. But, the sound was higher than that and more muffed and it was higher and different from those of those of the anti-aircraft guns, and which would never shoot just two bullets. We heard those anti-aircraft guns a lot lately trying to fend the city against the raiding jetfighters that were coming more and more.
I knew it was late when I heard the two explosions. TV, which closed at midnight everyday, was long gone as evidenced with the silence spreading all over our house and the hood. Everyone in my house was asleep except for me still thinking about the stories I had read. My brother had been gone for over a month now and the stories and conversations we had every night were gone too and that silence every night made it easy for someone like me to know all the sounds that were invading the night.
Then it came to me that night. Rami had done it and threw the two bombs we kept at his place. He told us that he wanted to throw them at night after we rejected the idea of attacking the grocery with it. Part of me was admiring his ability to be out and never afraid of the night. I was a little because of my super busy imagination.
It was not till the next day that my fears were confirmed into reality. After school we saw Rami waiting for us. He apparently skipped school that day. Bashar, Samer and I had discussed it all day and agreed that we lost our bombs even though both guys did not hear the explosions. I did and they both believed me knowing Rami, who was waiting smoking and told us right away that he went to Abu al-Ghadab and was able to secure a purchase of a better amount of firecrackers. He opened the backpack he was carrying and inside was a variety of them all; rockets, Fattush from all sizes, Night Stars, and ten cases of Falleen. And before anyone of us said a word, since that we were all admiring the arsenal we got, and said that the bombs fell off his roof the night before. We did not care at that moment at all because what we saw in his bag made us think right away with the attack that we planned and which came in full force later.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Disappearance of Christians in the Arab World
The Disappearance of Christians from the Arab World
Why are they leaving the Middle East?
Christians are an integral part of the fabric of many Arabic countries, something always stressed upon by almost everyone you speak to, yet they must achieve rights equal to those of their fellow Muslim countrymen in most of the Arabic states.
This inequity is reflected in the high number of Christians leaving the states in which they were born and heading to the Christian tolerant West. This Muslim East against the Christian West was and always will be a problematic point for the Christians in the Arab World and it is growing now. There is more talk about this “equality” now more than before. Lack of full equality between Muslims and Christians is what is missing from the “Arab World,” and the laws in all countries confirm that. On the other hand, for immigrant Muslims in the West, the law treats them as equal to “others,” although we witness a dent in personal freedoms due to “terrorism” related laws and practices.
The situation for Christians in the Arab World may differ according to the country they are in, but all share the same challenges regarding, identity, violence, freedoms, laws, rights, the rising tide of Islamic fundamentalism, and immigration.
Iraq
The Iraq War did not help the situation of the Christians of the Arab World. On the contrary, it was viewed along religious lines and termed a “Crusade” by many, something that reflected badly on the Christians of the Arab World.
The New Year did not bring anything new to the Iraqi Christians. Three bombs went off on Epiphany Sunday in al-Musel in northern Iraq on the first week on the year, one of the most important dates in the Eastern Christian calendar. The Chaldean Church of St. Paul, the Assyrian Church of the Virgin Mary, and the Chaldean Church of Maskanta were hit. It was a clear message to the Iraqi Christians, who compose 3% of the Iraqi population. Some estimate that half of the Iraqi Christians have left Iraq since the start of the war in 2003.
The Iraqi Christians are the descendants of the ancient inhabitants of that land. They have lived in peace with the Muslims since the introduction of Islam to Iraq. They also lived in peace under many rulers and also under Saddam Hussein and his Baa’th party, which was a secular party founded by a Christian. The first attacks against the Christians in Iraq since the American Invasion were against businesses but later were developed to reach churches in the early 2004 and have continued till now resulting in the mass departure of Iraqi Christians.
Many of the Iraqi Christians escaped Iraq and went to Syria and Jordan, where Christians live under totally different conditions. In Syria the Christians compose around 7% of the population. There are no incidents of attacks against them and the state does not discriminate between its citizens according to religion. The same applies to Jordan, where the Christians are numbered 230,000 (5% of the total population). There are also no attacks against Christians in Jordan.
Syria, Jordan, & Lebanon
In both Syrian and Jordan, both governments boast about the good treatment of the Christians. Christians hold high government posts and many are in the pubic eye in both countries. But still there is not complete equality. For example, the Syrian President has to be a Muslim - something that was added in 1973 - and you won’t find Christian classes in Jordan’s school curriculum. While Syria and Jordan are more progressive, Christians there still feel they have a different status, reminiscent of the al-Dhumi Status that was introduced by the Muslims so long ago.
In Lebanon, the situation for the Christians is unique in the Middle East, since it is the only state that has a Christian President and Christian Army Chief, a Maronite to be exact. In Lebanon, the problems facing the Lebanese Christians are of a different nature. Today they have the problem of electing a president since the Christians are basically in two camps on the issue, where both sides have different Muslim allies. The first camp includes the Maronite Patriarch, some Christians, and the Sunni Muslims; the other camp has the Christian General ‘Aoun and his Shi’a Muslim allies.
Christians in Lebanon are leaving the country in large numbers for a variety of reasons, as evidenced by the number of Lebanese-Christians who vote from outside of Lebanon. Christians in Syria also leave the country in large numbers especially Armenians, Assyrians, and Chaldeans from the North East Jazirah region.
Egypt
This Christian immigration trend applies to Egypt where, like Iraq, most of the violent incidents against Christians have occurred. Some of the attacks against the Copts are very infamous like al-Kashh incident in December 1999 and the Red Corner (al-Zawiyah al-Hamra’) in 1981, and a number of incidents in Alexandria.
The Egyptian Copts are leaving the country also, something that affects the estimation of the number of Copts still in Egypt. There are two different versions about the percentage of Copts in Egypt. The Copts put their numbers at around 15 million. The government says there are only 6 million Copts in Egypt.
The Copts in Egypt have a long list of complaints regarding their current situation in Egypt. The Copts have always been vocal about the role of some Muslim clergy in these incidents as well as the passive attitude of the Mubarak government. The list of the Coptic woes include; the restriction on building and repairing churches, equal airtime for religious programming on national television, the Second Article of the Egyptian Constitution (making al-Shari’ah the source of Egypt’s laws), current school books where activist Copts claim that school books are filled with Islamic references with the absence of anything Christians for students that are from both religions, equal employment opportunities, better representation in the parliament, sentencing those perpetrating crimes against Copts correctly, the necessity of displaying one’s religion on ID cards, a reevaluation of official Egyptian history in relation to the “Arabness” of Copts, and the restrictions placed on them regarding the schools in which they can enroll their children.
Copts living outside of Egypt hold up these issues for the world to view. They are well organized and routinely call for the Egyptian government to do a better job regarding the Coptic Question. The Egyptian Copts have numerous websites stating their position. They hold conferences around the world and are starting a television station aimed at airing their agenda. Recently, they were able to lobby the European Union delegates to condemn the Egyptian Government record on human rights during the EU meeting in Strasburg on Jan 17, 2008.
Palestine
The majority of Palestinian Christians live in Israel - 120,000, composing 2.1% of the total population of Israel. There are 51,000 living in the West Bank and 10,000 in Jerusalem.
The Christians in Gaza, where 10 Christian families control 1/3 of Gaza’s economy, according to al-Arabiya.net, number 3,500. They have 5 Christian schools in Gaza; most of the students and workers are Muslim. Even Hamas took a three days holiday for Christmas and New Year. Hamas supported Husam al-Taweel, a Christian political candidate who got around 50,000 votes.
The attacks on Gaza’s Christians do not represent the real relationship between Palestinian Muslims and their Christian countrymen but there are reports about some very radical militant groups that started appearing in Gaza.
Avoiding the grasp of hate
It is obvious that the main foe for Christians living in Arab countries is the fundamentalism that is circulating and those who are willing to apply it. Fundamentalism will always exist as long as there are those advocating it and if they possess the means to carry on the militant agenda. There is no doubt that the people of the Arab World had been through a lot of injustices, both Christians and Muslims, but that should not in any case justify the attitude that is growing toward Christians of the “Arab World.” There is no scientific ruling on how Fundamentalism grew and how it is gaining control over many people, but it is a reality that these fundamentalists view the world as “Us,” and “Them,” something that reflected badly on their co-patriot Christians of the “Arab World,” who in most cases go through the same experiences.
Anti-Christian literature is available; its rhetoric is present in all of the militant fundamentalist literature and lingo and is now intertwined with the “resistance” literature that presents the fight as a Muslim vs. Christian war.
Muslim institutions are the ones that can fight this radicalization most effectively, like an Imam in Brooklyn who recently used his Friday sermon to talk about the “respect” that Muslims should have and exhibit to the “others.” He spoke to his audience about the importance of leading by example and avoiding the “grasp of hate.”
When asked about the current attacks against Christians in Iraq and what CAIR’s position is on the issue, the Executive Director of CAIR’s Greater Los Angeles Area office Hussam Ayloush said: “It is immoral and ignorant for anyone to target Iraqi Christians in retaliation for the American military occupation. Such violence targeting innocent Iraqis, regardless of religion or ethnicity, flies in the face if Islamic teachings and the land’s history. Christians preceded Muslims in Iraq, and for centuries, both groups lived together in peace and harmony along with other minorities and, jointly, have opposed any foreign invasions of their country. Those who question the patriotism of other Iraqis based on their religious affiliations are themselves working against Iraq and all Iraqis.”
written in January 2008
It does not cover the gulf states, where the situation for Christians is very interesting
written by المشاكس
Why are they leaving the Middle East?
Christians are an integral part of the fabric of many Arabic countries, something always stressed upon by almost everyone you speak to, yet they must achieve rights equal to those of their fellow Muslim countrymen in most of the Arabic states.
This inequity is reflected in the high number of Christians leaving the states in which they were born and heading to the Christian tolerant West. This Muslim East against the Christian West was and always will be a problematic point for the Christians in the Arab World and it is growing now. There is more talk about this “equality” now more than before. Lack of full equality between Muslims and Christians is what is missing from the “Arab World,” and the laws in all countries confirm that. On the other hand, for immigrant Muslims in the West, the law treats them as equal to “others,” although we witness a dent in personal freedoms due to “terrorism” related laws and practices.
The situation for Christians in the Arab World may differ according to the country they are in, but all share the same challenges regarding, identity, violence, freedoms, laws, rights, the rising tide of Islamic fundamentalism, and immigration.
Iraq
The Iraq War did not help the situation of the Christians of the Arab World. On the contrary, it was viewed along religious lines and termed a “Crusade” by many, something that reflected badly on the Christians of the Arab World.
The New Year did not bring anything new to the Iraqi Christians. Three bombs went off on Epiphany Sunday in al-Musel in northern Iraq on the first week on the year, one of the most important dates in the Eastern Christian calendar. The Chaldean Church of St. Paul, the Assyrian Church of the Virgin Mary, and the Chaldean Church of Maskanta were hit. It was a clear message to the Iraqi Christians, who compose 3% of the Iraqi population. Some estimate that half of the Iraqi Christians have left Iraq since the start of the war in 2003.
The Iraqi Christians are the descendants of the ancient inhabitants of that land. They have lived in peace with the Muslims since the introduction of Islam to Iraq. They also lived in peace under many rulers and also under Saddam Hussein and his Baa’th party, which was a secular party founded by a Christian. The first attacks against the Christians in Iraq since the American Invasion were against businesses but later were developed to reach churches in the early 2004 and have continued till now resulting in the mass departure of Iraqi Christians.
Many of the Iraqi Christians escaped Iraq and went to Syria and Jordan, where Christians live under totally different conditions. In Syria the Christians compose around 7% of the population. There are no incidents of attacks against them and the state does not discriminate between its citizens according to religion. The same applies to Jordan, where the Christians are numbered 230,000 (5% of the total population). There are also no attacks against Christians in Jordan.
Syria, Jordan, & Lebanon
In both Syrian and Jordan, both governments boast about the good treatment of the Christians. Christians hold high government posts and many are in the pubic eye in both countries. But still there is not complete equality. For example, the Syrian President has to be a Muslim - something that was added in 1973 - and you won’t find Christian classes in Jordan’s school curriculum. While Syria and Jordan are more progressive, Christians there still feel they have a different status, reminiscent of the al-Dhumi Status that was introduced by the Muslims so long ago.
In Lebanon, the situation for the Christians is unique in the Middle East, since it is the only state that has a Christian President and Christian Army Chief, a Maronite to be exact. In Lebanon, the problems facing the Lebanese Christians are of a different nature. Today they have the problem of electing a president since the Christians are basically in two camps on the issue, where both sides have different Muslim allies. The first camp includes the Maronite Patriarch, some Christians, and the Sunni Muslims; the other camp has the Christian General ‘Aoun and his Shi’a Muslim allies.
Christians in Lebanon are leaving the country in large numbers for a variety of reasons, as evidenced by the number of Lebanese-Christians who vote from outside of Lebanon. Christians in Syria also leave the country in large numbers especially Armenians, Assyrians, and Chaldeans from the North East Jazirah region.
Egypt
This Christian immigration trend applies to Egypt where, like Iraq, most of the violent incidents against Christians have occurred. Some of the attacks against the Copts are very infamous like al-Kashh incident in December 1999 and the Red Corner (al-Zawiyah al-Hamra’) in 1981, and a number of incidents in Alexandria.
The Egyptian Copts are leaving the country also, something that affects the estimation of the number of Copts still in Egypt. There are two different versions about the percentage of Copts in Egypt. The Copts put their numbers at around 15 million. The government says there are only 6 million Copts in Egypt.
The Copts in Egypt have a long list of complaints regarding their current situation in Egypt. The Copts have always been vocal about the role of some Muslim clergy in these incidents as well as the passive attitude of the Mubarak government. The list of the Coptic woes include; the restriction on building and repairing churches, equal airtime for religious programming on national television, the Second Article of the Egyptian Constitution (making al-Shari’ah the source of Egypt’s laws), current school books where activist Copts claim that school books are filled with Islamic references with the absence of anything Christians for students that are from both religions, equal employment opportunities, better representation in the parliament, sentencing those perpetrating crimes against Copts correctly, the necessity of displaying one’s religion on ID cards, a reevaluation of official Egyptian history in relation to the “Arabness” of Copts, and the restrictions placed on them regarding the schools in which they can enroll their children.
Copts living outside of Egypt hold up these issues for the world to view. They are well organized and routinely call for the Egyptian government to do a better job regarding the Coptic Question. The Egyptian Copts have numerous websites stating their position. They hold conferences around the world and are starting a television station aimed at airing their agenda. Recently, they were able to lobby the European Union delegates to condemn the Egyptian Government record on human rights during the EU meeting in Strasburg on Jan 17, 2008.
Palestine
The majority of Palestinian Christians live in Israel - 120,000, composing 2.1% of the total population of Israel. There are 51,000 living in the West Bank and 10,000 in Jerusalem.
The Christians in Gaza, where 10 Christian families control 1/3 of Gaza’s economy, according to al-Arabiya.net, number 3,500. They have 5 Christian schools in Gaza; most of the students and workers are Muslim. Even Hamas took a three days holiday for Christmas and New Year. Hamas supported Husam al-Taweel, a Christian political candidate who got around 50,000 votes.
The attacks on Gaza’s Christians do not represent the real relationship between Palestinian Muslims and their Christian countrymen but there are reports about some very radical militant groups that started appearing in Gaza.
Avoiding the grasp of hate
It is obvious that the main foe for Christians living in Arab countries is the fundamentalism that is circulating and those who are willing to apply it. Fundamentalism will always exist as long as there are those advocating it and if they possess the means to carry on the militant agenda. There is no doubt that the people of the Arab World had been through a lot of injustices, both Christians and Muslims, but that should not in any case justify the attitude that is growing toward Christians of the “Arab World.” There is no scientific ruling on how Fundamentalism grew and how it is gaining control over many people, but it is a reality that these fundamentalists view the world as “Us,” and “Them,” something that reflected badly on their co-patriot Christians of the “Arab World,” who in most cases go through the same experiences.
Anti-Christian literature is available; its rhetoric is present in all of the militant fundamentalist literature and lingo and is now intertwined with the “resistance” literature that presents the fight as a Muslim vs. Christian war.
Muslim institutions are the ones that can fight this radicalization most effectively, like an Imam in Brooklyn who recently used his Friday sermon to talk about the “respect” that Muslims should have and exhibit to the “others.” He spoke to his audience about the importance of leading by example and avoiding the “grasp of hate.”
When asked about the current attacks against Christians in Iraq and what CAIR’s position is on the issue, the Executive Director of CAIR’s Greater Los Angeles Area office Hussam Ayloush said: “It is immoral and ignorant for anyone to target Iraqi Christians in retaliation for the American military occupation. Such violence targeting innocent Iraqis, regardless of religion or ethnicity, flies in the face if Islamic teachings and the land’s history. Christians preceded Muslims in Iraq, and for centuries, both groups lived together in peace and harmony along with other minorities and, jointly, have opposed any foreign invasions of their country. Those who question the patriotism of other Iraqis based on their religious affiliations are themselves working against Iraq and all Iraqis.”
written in January 2008
It does not cover the gulf states, where the situation for Christians is very interesting
written by المشاكس
Thursday, June 12, 2008
domestic violence and social work
Domestic Violence and Social Work:
No one wants to talk about “Domestic Violence,” even those working in the field and deal with it everyday. They would rather use an array of words to describe “problems in the family,” where physical, verbal and emotional abuses may have happened. Privacy issues always arise and everyone wants to shove that problem under the rug somehow, even those brave social workers dealing with this on daily basis. To talk about this issue, the Arab American Family Support Center is the right place when it comes into this type of discourses and problems regarding this issue among the Arab Americans in the New York area. But, discussing it would bring talk about social work in general and in the Arab American community in particular.
According to Census 2000 there are 120,370 Arab- Americans in New York and there are lots more that did not count if we take into consideration the trust people have in government agnecies, but how many social service agencies in the city service them and speak their language? The answer is well known: Not too many and the Arab American Family Support Center is probably the only one with active cases dealing with “Domestic Violence,” in the Arab-American community, and where some social workers would be able to speak and communicate in Arabic. The Center, located on Court Street in Brooklyn, provides lots of needed services to a community that needs help. It was established in 1994 and has been providing help, referral and intervention ever since.
Yasmeen Hamza, the program manager of Social services at the AAFSC described the mechanics of work at this much needed social service agency. She said that their mission is to “Strengthen the family as a crisis intervention” agency. She said that the AAFSC deals with around 60 to 65 cases distributed to 5 caseworkers. She also said that among the center’s caseworkers the languages spoken are Arabic, English, French, Bengali, Urdu and Hindi. French is needed to deal with people from North Africa. She also said that the center was asked to take the non-Arabic cases like the Urdu, Bengali, and Hindi. She also said that although the Center is located in Brooklyn, the shortage with language made them take cases from the five boroughs of New York City something that is stretching their already thin resources.
The cases come to the center from different sources; hospitals, schools, other social work agencies, Agency of Children Services (ACS) and walk in. For walk ins, an assessment interview is conducted to determine if that particular case is to be taken or not. ACS is the main backer of AAFCS and refers to it many of its cases and provides supervision also. Most of the cases starts with the children, and from gathering more information about the family an array of problems arise and “domestic violence” pops out. Yasmin Hamza speaks of housing, immigration, welfare, schools and domestic violence as some of those need immediate attention in most of the cases. She speaks of the burden her case workers are dealing with when working with ten or more cases on daily basis. She also said that they deal with this shortcoming by helping each other and she spoke about “team effort.” Each case stays open for 12 to 18 months depending on the problems in that particular case. “It is more about who have the skill,” Yasmin Hamza puts it in her own words.
Caseworkers from the Arab American Family Support Center pay visits to families or regular bases depending on the specific need of the case. There should be at least 2 to 3 visits and at least one home visit per month. Families are asked to visit their caseworkers at the Center and to participate in the events the Center always organizing. Coping with living in the United Stated and with the language barrier are always some of the main problems facing the parents in most of the cases. Language is one major problem and one of the city’s shortcomings when it comes into services into the Arab-American community. That shows in the non-existance of many services in Arabic around the city.
Yasmin Hamza stressed that it is the risk for the children is the main focus of their work. She said that by doing this the Center is helping the family be stronger by dealing with many problems stemming from their ability to survive in the city. The Center concentrates on the children and it shows from any visit from the bustling commotion in the activity rooms. There is a long-list of activities and events the Center help put together and create. The Center provides after school programs for ages 8-12, Saturday program that includes trips and activities, teen program for ages 13-18, Saturday prep classes ages 15-18 and Arabic language classes to all ages.
The Center also provides women with support groups and help them with information about parenting and work related advices. Also, the Center helps with the healthcare system and organizes some workshops and seminars dealing with the issue. Some legal help is also available at some points in the Center dealing with immigration and other issues. Among all of this help “domestic violence” still pops out.
Domestic violence is not the main work of the AAFSC, but it is for sure a problem they face and a problem that need to be dealt with since that it will keep on showing up with the type of work the Center deals with. Yasmin Hamza spoke of the things needed regarding domestic violence while stressing on the issue of the privacy of the issue. Privacy and confidentiality are the basis of the work of the Arab American Family Support Center, according to Yasmin Hamza. She said that they at the Center never like to discuss this with anyone taking into consideration the sensitivity of the issue. But still, she complained about the lack of services in domestic violence matters in Arabic like Anger management classes for men and batterer groups for men also.
One of the most interesting finds is that it is mostly women who deal with all of this huge work at the center. Yasmin Hamza stresses that the gender of the caseworkers does not matter and what matters the most is the training, experience and will. She spoke about the on going training that her case workers attain while working at the center since that some of them are not graduates with major in social work. There are some agencies around the city that provides training as well. It is a well-known fact that social workers do not earn lots of money and that is one of the reasons of its unpopularity in this material world especially among men.
The women of the Arab American Family Support Center are in the trenches in the fight for the help for the Arab American community, and that community should take notice of that and provide as much help as possible. They are leading in the advocacy field for the community that would rather “deal” with issues “internally,” as many think. There are no comprehensive statistics for “domestic violence” in the Arab American community in the greater New York region, nor it is a problem within that community alone. But, the cases of abuse are their and well documented and to deal with them in the right way the community should follow the lead of organizations like the Arab Family Support Center that through its limited means still manage to help many families and advocate for many others too while also trying to reach out through their pamphlets and flyers in Arabic. The community should also encourage their sons and daughters into venturing into the world of social work because without the human resources their will be no real solution for these issues.
Written by ......المشاكس
3- 24-08
No one wants to talk about “Domestic Violence,” even those working in the field and deal with it everyday. They would rather use an array of words to describe “problems in the family,” where physical, verbal and emotional abuses may have happened. Privacy issues always arise and everyone wants to shove that problem under the rug somehow, even those brave social workers dealing with this on daily basis. To talk about this issue, the Arab American Family Support Center is the right place when it comes into this type of discourses and problems regarding this issue among the Arab Americans in the New York area. But, discussing it would bring talk about social work in general and in the Arab American community in particular.
According to Census 2000 there are 120,370 Arab- Americans in New York and there are lots more that did not count if we take into consideration the trust people have in government agnecies, but how many social service agencies in the city service them and speak their language? The answer is well known: Not too many and the Arab American Family Support Center is probably the only one with active cases dealing with “Domestic Violence,” in the Arab-American community, and where some social workers would be able to speak and communicate in Arabic. The Center, located on Court Street in Brooklyn, provides lots of needed services to a community that needs help. It was established in 1994 and has been providing help, referral and intervention ever since.
Yasmeen Hamza, the program manager of Social services at the AAFSC described the mechanics of work at this much needed social service agency. She said that their mission is to “Strengthen the family as a crisis intervention” agency. She said that the AAFSC deals with around 60 to 65 cases distributed to 5 caseworkers. She also said that among the center’s caseworkers the languages spoken are Arabic, English, French, Bengali, Urdu and Hindi. French is needed to deal with people from North Africa. She also said that the center was asked to take the non-Arabic cases like the Urdu, Bengali, and Hindi. She also said that although the Center is located in Brooklyn, the shortage with language made them take cases from the five boroughs of New York City something that is stretching their already thin resources.
The cases come to the center from different sources; hospitals, schools, other social work agencies, Agency of Children Services (ACS) and walk in. For walk ins, an assessment interview is conducted to determine if that particular case is to be taken or not. ACS is the main backer of AAFCS and refers to it many of its cases and provides supervision also. Most of the cases starts with the children, and from gathering more information about the family an array of problems arise and “domestic violence” pops out. Yasmin Hamza speaks of housing, immigration, welfare, schools and domestic violence as some of those need immediate attention in most of the cases. She speaks of the burden her case workers are dealing with when working with ten or more cases on daily basis. She also said that they deal with this shortcoming by helping each other and she spoke about “team effort.” Each case stays open for 12 to 18 months depending on the problems in that particular case. “It is more about who have the skill,” Yasmin Hamza puts it in her own words.
Caseworkers from the Arab American Family Support Center pay visits to families or regular bases depending on the specific need of the case. There should be at least 2 to 3 visits and at least one home visit per month. Families are asked to visit their caseworkers at the Center and to participate in the events the Center always organizing. Coping with living in the United Stated and with the language barrier are always some of the main problems facing the parents in most of the cases. Language is one major problem and one of the city’s shortcomings when it comes into services into the Arab-American community. That shows in the non-existance of many services in Arabic around the city.
Yasmin Hamza stressed that it is the risk for the children is the main focus of their work. She said that by doing this the Center is helping the family be stronger by dealing with many problems stemming from their ability to survive in the city. The Center concentrates on the children and it shows from any visit from the bustling commotion in the activity rooms. There is a long-list of activities and events the Center help put together and create. The Center provides after school programs for ages 8-12, Saturday program that includes trips and activities, teen program for ages 13-18, Saturday prep classes ages 15-18 and Arabic language classes to all ages.
The Center also provides women with support groups and help them with information about parenting and work related advices. Also, the Center helps with the healthcare system and organizes some workshops and seminars dealing with the issue. Some legal help is also available at some points in the Center dealing with immigration and other issues. Among all of this help “domestic violence” still pops out.
Domestic violence is not the main work of the AAFSC, but it is for sure a problem they face and a problem that need to be dealt with since that it will keep on showing up with the type of work the Center deals with. Yasmin Hamza spoke of the things needed regarding domestic violence while stressing on the issue of the privacy of the issue. Privacy and confidentiality are the basis of the work of the Arab American Family Support Center, according to Yasmin Hamza. She said that they at the Center never like to discuss this with anyone taking into consideration the sensitivity of the issue. But still, she complained about the lack of services in domestic violence matters in Arabic like Anger management classes for men and batterer groups for men also.
One of the most interesting finds is that it is mostly women who deal with all of this huge work at the center. Yasmin Hamza stresses that the gender of the caseworkers does not matter and what matters the most is the training, experience and will. She spoke about the on going training that her case workers attain while working at the center since that some of them are not graduates with major in social work. There are some agencies around the city that provides training as well. It is a well-known fact that social workers do not earn lots of money and that is one of the reasons of its unpopularity in this material world especially among men.
The women of the Arab American Family Support Center are in the trenches in the fight for the help for the Arab American community, and that community should take notice of that and provide as much help as possible. They are leading in the advocacy field for the community that would rather “deal” with issues “internally,” as many think. There are no comprehensive statistics for “domestic violence” in the Arab American community in the greater New York region, nor it is a problem within that community alone. But, the cases of abuse are their and well documented and to deal with them in the right way the community should follow the lead of organizations like the Arab Family Support Center that through its limited means still manage to help many families and advocate for many others too while also trying to reach out through their pamphlets and flyers in Arabic. The community should also encourage their sons and daughters into venturing into the world of social work because without the human resources their will be no real solution for these issues.
Written by ......المشاكس
3- 24-08
Saturday, June 7, 2008
The first few chapters of The Man
The Man
1-
It was around one o’clock in the morning when the drunk Ayman entered his home in Astoria to find his wife Zaynab waiting in the clean and neat living room watching an Egyptian film on mute so she would not wake their three children. He almost tripped over the little rug by the door and then cursed at who put it there. She looked at him and knew what was coming her way. It was obvious from the way he walked and the look he gave her and how she looked back at him what to expect. She knew that in few minutes she would be weeping silently in her room while Ayman would be snoring next to her, or on the living room sofa as his habit of late after their usual quarrel regarding his behavior, and which would end up in its normal violent pattern. But, still that night she did not back down.
They were the total opposites at that moment. Two contradicting beings forced to be in one shared space by the marriage they had before when they were young and somehow in love. It was the time for battle. Again, she thought for a second after seeing the crazed look at her husband’s face that she should have been in bed pretending to be asleep. He would have loved that, because that meant that he would go and give his beloved kids their kiss on the forehead with his breath stinking of booze, and where he would stumble play the father for few seconds doing mundane things like checking their covers or closing the window. Of course he would loved that because that would had gave him the television with the food that she normally leaves for him in the kitchen. They had not slept together for a while, since she started smelling the cheap perfume of the other women he would be hanging with.
That night, things got heated up very fast. Ayman wanted to do his usual trip to his children’s room to show that he cared about them. Zaynab was not going to let that happen that night and she went and blocked the door leading to where the kids were sleeping, while asking him about where was he? And why he did not answer her calls to him so he would have dinner with their kids? Ayman told his wife of twelve years his usual clichés that he is a man and could do whatever after he tried to lie as usual to her deaf ears. She knew all of his lies and these days there was no need to hide things anymore. Things have been exploding for the last few months and his violence had been escalating with time.
At first, Ayman tried to push his wife aside, and when he couldn’t move her he clinched his fist threatening to hit while mumbling words no one can understand. Again, Zaynab did not seem to care. She had been there before and that night she was going to stay put again and take the punches, slaps and probably the belt. He did not disappoint and first slapped her across the face with his hand making her take her hands of the door to protect her face. He tried to gain entry to the room but Zaynab was fast to block the door again so he went back into slapping her on her bare face that she would cover every now and then with her hands without leaving her post. When, Ayman saw that he started hitting her on her neck and head since hitting her on the face would leave marks and was not making him any progress.
“You bitch, the daughter of a thousand dogs,” he said while slapping her again across the face that is covered with her hands that still carried the ring indicating her married status. He was slurring and his words incoherent, but anger was emitting out of his crazed eyes. He was mad and intent to pummel his hapless wife who would put few scratches on his forearms every now and then whenever she could. That elevated his level of aggression. He clinched and punched his wife all over her body leaving her crying in silence. He did not like to kick, because he once kicked her while she was pregnant and left her unconscious. That really scared him a lot, not for her, but for his child that she was bearing at the moment, and which as he told her many times before was more important to him at any given day.
The belt came next and Zaynab escaped to the bedroom they shared once so her children would not hear her screams since that the punches were getting harder right outside the door where the three children shared a room. At first she tried not to cry just to piss him off but she could not hold her tears longer. She ended up getting a number of lashes with the belt as she cowered between her bed and the closet covering her head with her hands while the belt came from above. He cursed at her and called her a prostitute as well as untamable.
2-
After beating his wife to a pulp, Ayman went back to the living room and sat in front of the television and turned it on. He was getting out of breath and wanted to cool off. He was hungry too although he had eaten outside with his friends before he came home. He headed to the kitchen and found his food in its normal spot. He ate a little while standing up and then decided to bring the food to the living room and eat it. He brought many dishes and some drinks and sat facing his big television. He picked up the remote and started going through the channels. He first checked his normal pay-per-view and the stuff his new television recorded but did not find anything to his likening. Nothing was there that matched his sour mood. The news on al-Jazeera, MBC or al-‘Arabiyah did not interest him and instead switched to Rotana, the ‘Arabic music channel and started watching music videos and soon he fell asleep leaving the television and the lights on. He also left the food on the table scattered knowing that Zaynab would come and take care of it the next day. Soon, the noise of him snoring with the flickering silver light the television was leaving all over the walls gave an eerie feeling from that room. His hands had some blood on them and little fragments of hair were lodged underneath his nails. His hair was still wet. He was sweaty.
3-
In her bedroom, Zaynab could not fall asleep. Sleep been eluding her lately. She stayed in her position lodged between her bed and the closet that started looking like a good place to crawl into and hide for a while. She looked inside and started seeing that some of her clothes had fallen to the ground from the fight of the night before where she hid inside the closet after he beat her all over the house. But, the thought of her kids waking up kept her from having those defeatist thoughts and instead she kept on thinking about what to do. She looked all over her room again and saw the same things where in the dark things started getting humanly shapes that scared her a little. She wanted to talk to these figures but could not and therefore resorted back into thinking.
4-
She looked at the pictures hanging from the mirror on top of the dresser and was able to reconstruct her history in a flash. She was young when she was first introduced to Ayman who was seven years her senior and who had just returned back from New York to find a woman to marry. He had money and was nice at that moment. The pictures showed some of her early days with him. There was the picture they had on their wedding day as well as another picture of them together on a street in Queens with their first two children Ahmad and Reema, who were born back home. Also there was the picture with Ayman and Zaynab with their firstborn Ahmad along with other family members all smiling. Zaynab remembered her story with Ayman and how he had to go back to New York so he could divorce the woman he got his green card through and to find a home for his family that started to grow with every visit he would make back to Zaynab. There ware also pictures of their daughter Reema when she was born of course with some family members. The pictures of Yaser, their youngest and who was born three years ago in Queens occupied most of the impromptu frame. Ayman is seen holding him in many parts of New York City, as well around the apartment. It was obvious Ayman’s fondness for his youngest through all of those pictures. She thought of the love there is between the members of her family. All of that flashed in front of Zaynab. Her whole history came again in front of her eyes. She had been going through this a lot recently. She wished many things regarding that history. She wanted to change many things, but did not know if she could.
5-
Ayman woke up to see his son Yaser standing still waiting for him to wake up. Ayman remembered that the gentle touches he felt in his sleep probably were those of Yaser trying to tap him as his norm to wake up. Ayman smiled right away and looked at his watch and grabbed his son to play with to the kid’s delight. The television was still on showing still the videos of current ‘Arabic pop stars. Soon, the cries and laughter filled that room and Ahmad and his sister Reema emerged from the kitchen with food and tea for their father. It was obvious that Zynab had prepared the kids for school and had made breakfast for everybody. Ayman did not seem to be bothered that his children saw him waking up in the living room after spending the whole night on the sofa. But, he was surely bothered when his ten years old daughter Reema asked him about that.
“Why don’t you sleep with mom any more?” asked Reema.
“I came home late and did not want to wake her up,” replied Ayman.
He tried to escape the topic by playing with the youngest Yaser, who seemed to be happy for all the attention he was getting from his father. But, Reema was not satisfied and kept on asking her dad more questions that made him mad and brought the beast out of him again. She was just standing in front of him. One look at her and he was reminded with his resolved wife. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and mumbled something and went to action. Ayman pushed his daughter while screaming and cursing at Zaynab, and busted to take his shower preparing himself to go to work. He did not notice that when Reema fell to the ground her face had hit a chair and left a mark on his soft skin. The crazed look came back to his eyes again.
6-
Zaynab came from the kitchen to see her daughter crying. She tried to calm her down and asked Ahmad to be ready to leave the house for school. He was there standing watching his sister silent. He watched the whole thing without saying a word. Zaynab did not notice the mark on her daughter’s cheek. She was more concerned with getting them to school on time. So, she helped her daughter get up and get her school bag, sandwiches and coat. Zaynab also went to her room and was out in a matter of a minute with her normal long dress and with her Hijab covering her head.
7-
the school was few blocks away and Zaynab with all of her children in tow was able to get there on time. Ayman never took his children to school and of course never picked them up. He was always busy with his store and Zaynab was left to do everything related to the house and the children. He worked seven days a week and never had time for his family, who seemed to be functioning well.
1-
It was around one o’clock in the morning when the drunk Ayman entered his home in Astoria to find his wife Zaynab waiting in the clean and neat living room watching an Egyptian film on mute so she would not wake their three children. He almost tripped over the little rug by the door and then cursed at who put it there. She looked at him and knew what was coming her way. It was obvious from the way he walked and the look he gave her and how she looked back at him what to expect. She knew that in few minutes she would be weeping silently in her room while Ayman would be snoring next to her, or on the living room sofa as his habit of late after their usual quarrel regarding his behavior, and which would end up in its normal violent pattern. But, still that night she did not back down.
They were the total opposites at that moment. Two contradicting beings forced to be in one shared space by the marriage they had before when they were young and somehow in love. It was the time for battle. Again, she thought for a second after seeing the crazed look at her husband’s face that she should have been in bed pretending to be asleep. He would have loved that, because that meant that he would go and give his beloved kids their kiss on the forehead with his breath stinking of booze, and where he would stumble play the father for few seconds doing mundane things like checking their covers or closing the window. Of course he would loved that because that would had gave him the television with the food that she normally leaves for him in the kitchen. They had not slept together for a while, since she started smelling the cheap perfume of the other women he would be hanging with.
That night, things got heated up very fast. Ayman wanted to do his usual trip to his children’s room to show that he cared about them. Zaynab was not going to let that happen that night and she went and blocked the door leading to where the kids were sleeping, while asking him about where was he? And why he did not answer her calls to him so he would have dinner with their kids? Ayman told his wife of twelve years his usual clichés that he is a man and could do whatever after he tried to lie as usual to her deaf ears. She knew all of his lies and these days there was no need to hide things anymore. Things have been exploding for the last few months and his violence had been escalating with time.
At first, Ayman tried to push his wife aside, and when he couldn’t move her he clinched his fist threatening to hit while mumbling words no one can understand. Again, Zaynab did not seem to care. She had been there before and that night she was going to stay put again and take the punches, slaps and probably the belt. He did not disappoint and first slapped her across the face with his hand making her take her hands of the door to protect her face. He tried to gain entry to the room but Zaynab was fast to block the door again so he went back into slapping her on her bare face that she would cover every now and then with her hands without leaving her post. When, Ayman saw that he started hitting her on her neck and head since hitting her on the face would leave marks and was not making him any progress.
“You bitch, the daughter of a thousand dogs,” he said while slapping her again across the face that is covered with her hands that still carried the ring indicating her married status. He was slurring and his words incoherent, but anger was emitting out of his crazed eyes. He was mad and intent to pummel his hapless wife who would put few scratches on his forearms every now and then whenever she could. That elevated his level of aggression. He clinched and punched his wife all over her body leaving her crying in silence. He did not like to kick, because he once kicked her while she was pregnant and left her unconscious. That really scared him a lot, not for her, but for his child that she was bearing at the moment, and which as he told her many times before was more important to him at any given day.
The belt came next and Zaynab escaped to the bedroom they shared once so her children would not hear her screams since that the punches were getting harder right outside the door where the three children shared a room. At first she tried not to cry just to piss him off but she could not hold her tears longer. She ended up getting a number of lashes with the belt as she cowered between her bed and the closet covering her head with her hands while the belt came from above. He cursed at her and called her a prostitute as well as untamable.
2-
After beating his wife to a pulp, Ayman went back to the living room and sat in front of the television and turned it on. He was getting out of breath and wanted to cool off. He was hungry too although he had eaten outside with his friends before he came home. He headed to the kitchen and found his food in its normal spot. He ate a little while standing up and then decided to bring the food to the living room and eat it. He brought many dishes and some drinks and sat facing his big television. He picked up the remote and started going through the channels. He first checked his normal pay-per-view and the stuff his new television recorded but did not find anything to his likening. Nothing was there that matched his sour mood. The news on al-Jazeera, MBC or al-‘Arabiyah did not interest him and instead switched to Rotana, the ‘Arabic music channel and started watching music videos and soon he fell asleep leaving the television and the lights on. He also left the food on the table scattered knowing that Zaynab would come and take care of it the next day. Soon, the noise of him snoring with the flickering silver light the television was leaving all over the walls gave an eerie feeling from that room. His hands had some blood on them and little fragments of hair were lodged underneath his nails. His hair was still wet. He was sweaty.
3-
In her bedroom, Zaynab could not fall asleep. Sleep been eluding her lately. She stayed in her position lodged between her bed and the closet that started looking like a good place to crawl into and hide for a while. She looked inside and started seeing that some of her clothes had fallen to the ground from the fight of the night before where she hid inside the closet after he beat her all over the house. But, the thought of her kids waking up kept her from having those defeatist thoughts and instead she kept on thinking about what to do. She looked all over her room again and saw the same things where in the dark things started getting humanly shapes that scared her a little. She wanted to talk to these figures but could not and therefore resorted back into thinking.
4-
She looked at the pictures hanging from the mirror on top of the dresser and was able to reconstruct her history in a flash. She was young when she was first introduced to Ayman who was seven years her senior and who had just returned back from New York to find a woman to marry. He had money and was nice at that moment. The pictures showed some of her early days with him. There was the picture they had on their wedding day as well as another picture of them together on a street in Queens with their first two children Ahmad and Reema, who were born back home. Also there was the picture with Ayman and Zaynab with their firstborn Ahmad along with other family members all smiling. Zaynab remembered her story with Ayman and how he had to go back to New York so he could divorce the woman he got his green card through and to find a home for his family that started to grow with every visit he would make back to Zaynab. There ware also pictures of their daughter Reema when she was born of course with some family members. The pictures of Yaser, their youngest and who was born three years ago in Queens occupied most of the impromptu frame. Ayman is seen holding him in many parts of New York City, as well around the apartment. It was obvious Ayman’s fondness for his youngest through all of those pictures. She thought of the love there is between the members of her family. All of that flashed in front of Zaynab. Her whole history came again in front of her eyes. She had been going through this a lot recently. She wished many things regarding that history. She wanted to change many things, but did not know if she could.
5-
Ayman woke up to see his son Yaser standing still waiting for him to wake up. Ayman remembered that the gentle touches he felt in his sleep probably were those of Yaser trying to tap him as his norm to wake up. Ayman smiled right away and looked at his watch and grabbed his son to play with to the kid’s delight. The television was still on showing still the videos of current ‘Arabic pop stars. Soon, the cries and laughter filled that room and Ahmad and his sister Reema emerged from the kitchen with food and tea for their father. It was obvious that Zynab had prepared the kids for school and had made breakfast for everybody. Ayman did not seem to be bothered that his children saw him waking up in the living room after spending the whole night on the sofa. But, he was surely bothered when his ten years old daughter Reema asked him about that.
“Why don’t you sleep with mom any more?” asked Reema.
“I came home late and did not want to wake her up,” replied Ayman.
He tried to escape the topic by playing with the youngest Yaser, who seemed to be happy for all the attention he was getting from his father. But, Reema was not satisfied and kept on asking her dad more questions that made him mad and brought the beast out of him again. She was just standing in front of him. One look at her and he was reminded with his resolved wife. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and mumbled something and went to action. Ayman pushed his daughter while screaming and cursing at Zaynab, and busted to take his shower preparing himself to go to work. He did not notice that when Reema fell to the ground her face had hit a chair and left a mark on his soft skin. The crazed look came back to his eyes again.
6-
Zaynab came from the kitchen to see her daughter crying. She tried to calm her down and asked Ahmad to be ready to leave the house for school. He was there standing watching his sister silent. He watched the whole thing without saying a word. Zaynab did not notice the mark on her daughter’s cheek. She was more concerned with getting them to school on time. So, she helped her daughter get up and get her school bag, sandwiches and coat. Zaynab also went to her room and was out in a matter of a minute with her normal long dress and with her Hijab covering her head.
7-
the school was few blocks away and Zaynab with all of her children in tow was able to get there on time. Ayman never took his children to school and of course never picked them up. He was always busy with his store and Zaynab was left to do everything related to the house and the children. He worked seven days a week and never had time for his family, who seemed to be functioning well.
سر حمل البشار وأبو البحر للمسدسات المحشية
From the Tales of Abu Hazza al-Talsamani
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
سر حمل البشار وصديقه أبو البحر للمسدسات المحشية؟
1- في مطار مدينة صغيرة في فلوريدا وقف البشار ينتظر صديقه العزيز القادم من نيويورك. لم تتأخر الطائرة وأطل الصديق ليرى البشار بقامته الطويلة وكتفيه العريضين مبتسماً:
البشار: أبو البحر......شو ....اهلا فيك...(معانقاً صديقه)
أبو البحر: أبو الدمار...كل مانك عم تكبر..(معانقاً صديقه).....
أبو الدمار: شو أخبارك يازعيم؟ وين القحاب؟
أبو البحر: الأمور خريانة متل العادة...شغل متل الحمار ومفلس متل العادة....
2- في السيارة من المطار يفتح أبو البحر حقيبته ويخرج بعض الشرائط ويناولها لصديقه المتصبب عرقاً في ذلك الجو الحار...
أبو البحر: "جبتلك شرايط بدا تعجبك..وكمان جبتلك تي شيرت على كيفك (يخرج أبو البحر قميصاً قطنياً أبيض اللون من الحجم الكبير جداً مطبوع عليه صورة مسدس وكتب تحتها بالإنكليزية عبارة ترجمتها "هنا نيويورك وليس كانساس").
3- نظر البشار إلى القميص القطني الأبيض اللون بينما مازال يقود سيارته الهوندا سيفيك الزرقاء اللون بسرعة عالية مستمعاً بطرب لصباح فخري..
البشار:This is New York and Not Kansas....شوهالحكي..أنا بدي فرجيك هون طخ الرصاص يامعلم...شوهالتيشرت هادا...ياعمي هون مطرح أنا مابشتغل بيصير عنا طخ رصاص أكتر من جد نيويورك...هههههه...والله عال....
أبو البحر: على مهلك يامعلم!...شو هالحكي...عندك هون طخ رصاص...رجاءً رجعني عالمطار...(يضحك الصديقان...)
4- في السيارة الحارة يتكلم الصديقان ويضحكان....
6-.... البشار: بشتغل هون متل الحمار من الساعة وحدة الضهر للساعة تلاتة بعد نص الليل....وقت بسكر مافي حدا بالحارة غير الزعران والشراميط وهالكام سعدان عم يلعبوا سلة..
أبو البحر: لعمى! شي يبخري لكن...شومابتلعب سلة معون!
البشار: مرات...متل ايامنا انا وياك بنيويورك...بتتذكر لما كنا نكبس مع السكيرة بعد نص الليل...بالله عليك شو صار مع هدول اللي كنا نلعب معون
أبو البحر: لساتون عم يلعبوا بنفس الملعب..أنا بروح بلعب معون كل فترة والتانية...
البشار: عنا كل لاعب هون متل النمر....بس عمك هون مشوفون نجوم الضهر....
٦- يصل البشار وصديقه إلى مصف سيارات خارج سوبرماركت في حي فقير مسكون من غالبية من أصل أفريقي. علائم البؤس والإهمال تسود المكان.
٧- دخل البشار وصديقه إلى المحل حيث كان صاحبه مشغولاً بأوراق عديدة.
صاحب المحل: بدي منك تروح عالبنك وتحط هالمصاري بالحساب وبعدين مر على أخي وخود منه اللي بيعطيك ياه
البشار: ماشي..... وبعدين.... بدي وصل أبو البحر على بيتي وبكون عندك حوالي التلاتة
٨- في السيارة أخرج البشار أحد الشرائط الجديدة اللتي جلبها له أبو البحر ووضعها في جهاز التسجيل.
البشار: شو أخبار الشباب بنيويورك؟ عم بتشوف حدا؟
أبو البحر: عم شوف أبو حسن
٩- ضحك البشار كثيراً عند سماع اسم أبو حسن. هز رأسه ثم استرسل بالضحك الذي انتشر ألى أبو البحر أيضاً.
البشار: لآخر يوم بعمري مابنسى أفلام أبو حسن.....(هازاً برأسه ضاحكاُ)
أبو البحر: ماراح تستوعب شو بدي خبرك على آخر أفلامو
البشار: شو...دخيل ربك هات...احكي بسرعة...
أبو البحر: والله كنت بالبيت عم ادرس ..كان عندي فحص بالجامعة وإذا بتليفوني بيرن..عمك أبو حسن خبرني انو جاي لعندي لأنو عندو خبر هام جداً..أنا الحمار صدقت انو عندو خبر هام
البشار: وشو طلع هالخبر الهام؟
أبو البحر: اجى لعندي ومعو علبة بلاستيك فيا سائل أسود...خبرني أنو أخو بالشام أخترعوا...وهادا السائل دواء للصلع
البشار: شو!!!!
أبو البحر: نعم ياأستاذ..أخو أبو حسن اخترع كما روى أبو حسن ومن أعشاب دوا للصلعان....
البشار: وانت شو عملت...انشاالله ماتكون ضيعت وقتك مع هالزعيم.
أبو البحر: شورأيك؟ أنا مجنون...اتسمعتلوا شي ساعة وبعدين رحت عالشغل...ماعندي وئت يازلمة...
١٠- دخل البشار الثلاثيني إلى منزله المكون من طابق واحد في شارع مشجر واللذي يعكس شخصيته. ثياب وكتب مبعثرة ومطبخ مكركب بالإضافة إلى بعض كرات السلة مع بعض الصور المؤرخة لحياته السابقة من صور وكؤوس.
١١- في كاراج منزل البشار ضحك البشار عندما اتجه صديقه أبو البحر إلى السيارة للعودة إلى السوبرماركت.
البشار: بدنا نروح عالبسكليت كلا خمس دئايئ من هون للمحل
١٢- ركب الصديقان الدراجات الهوائية واتجها نحو المحل والبشار في المقدمة بحجمه الضخم جداً مرتديا سروالاً قصيرا كان قد غير إليه من ثيابه المليئة بالعرق مع القميص القطني الأبيض اللون اللذي جلبه له صديقه أبو البحر. كانت علائم السعادة في كل زاوية من وجه الصديقين.
البشار: ولك أهلا وسهلاً فيك أبو البحر
١٣- دخل البشار وصديقه السوبرماركت ليجدا صاحب المحل يصفف المنتوجات مع شخص يشبهه ولكن أكبر عمراً. صافح البشار وكذلك أبو البحر كلا الشخصين.
البشار: هاد أبو البحر من عضام الرئبة...كنا نلعب ضد بعض بسوريا..أنا مع نادي الجيش وهو مع سعادين حطين.
صاحب المحل: تشرفنا أخ أبو البحر
البشار: (مشيراً إلى الرجل الآخر) وهاد ياأبو البحر الأخ أبو وداد بشتغل أنا ويا كل يوم لنسكر بس مشكلتوا مانوا حكوجي متلك
صاحب المحل (مقاطعاً): هيك أحسن...خير الكلام ماقل ودل
١٤- خرج صاحب المحل واتجه إلى سيارته وانطلق بسرعة. لاحظ أبو البحر لمرة أخرى علائم البؤس في المنطقة. وكذلك شاهد بعض الأولاد الأمريكيون من أصل أفريقي يلعبون كرة السلة، بمهارة طبعاً. وقف وتفرج.
١٥- نظر أبو البحر إلى المحل من الداخل ولاحظ أن صديقه البشار كان قد انتقل إلى خلف الثلاجتين المشكلتين لحاجز من نوع ما حيث وضعت المنتوجات فوق أحدهما وقفص زجاجي يحتوي على دخان من أنواع عديدة. من خلال هذا القفص ظهر البشار ومن خلال الكوة المفتوحة ليقبض من الزبائن أسعار المشتريات ليضعها في ألة حساب جلست خلف ذلك الحاجز.
البشار: تعا لهون من ورا البراد...هون مركز القيادة والتحكم.
١٦- عندما عبر أبو البحر إلى الجانب الآخر لاحظ فوراً المسدسين الموضوعين داخل صندوق دخان مفتوح لذلك الغرض على يمين كرسي البشار تحت جهاز تلفزيون موضوع تحت جهاز آخر يعرض ماتسجله أربعة كاميرات موضوعة في مناطق استراتيجية داخل المحل. لاحظ البشار ماشاهده صديقه وضحك.
البشار: شو رأيك....جايبلي ئميص عليه صورة مسدس...والله عال..
أبو البحر: شايف انك مسلح تمام
البشار: كان عنا روسية الشهر الماضي بس صاحب المحل عطاها لأخوه بعد مامات شب متل الوردة من حواريكم ياأبو البحر...دخلوا عليه وكان لوحدو وبدون أي كلام طخوه شي خمس رصاصات الله يرحمو
أبو البحر: وهادا أبو وداد برأيك فينو يمنع حدا
البشار: أنا أبو الدمار ولا أبو خرى...كل واحد داخل لهون الله يرحمو اذا بدو يترازل...
نظر أبو البحر إلى صديقه وانفجر كلاهما بالضحك الشديد....
أبو البحر: أبو خرى بيدمر العالم كلوا.......
١٧- البشار: مرة اتصل معي صاحب المحل وئلي تعا عالمحل بكير.....عمك هون نشيط والحمد لله وماكان عندي شي....ركبت عالبسكليته ومتل الصاروخ كنت هون...ومتل مبتعرف صاحب المحل مابيكب زبالة...اجا عمك هون بعد ماجمعت كياس الزبالة رحت بدي كبون بالحاوية ورا المحل وحزر شو شفت جوات الحاوية....
أبو البحر: شو شفت؟
البشار: واحد اسود مخردق بالرصاص ...كل جسمو مخردق...شي أخو شرموطة رشو وزتو هون..اجو الشرطة والاسعاف واخدو
١٨- يدخل زبون ويتوجه إلى احدى الثلاجات ويخرج شيئا ويتجه نحو البشار لدفع الثمن
الزبون: Wassup
البشار: Chillin
الزبون: Did not see you ballin for a while
البشار: Tonight may be to show my friend here whassup
الزبون:Later
١٩- البشار: لكن أخو أبو حسن اخترع دوا للصلع....اسمعت يا أبو وداد اخترعوا دوا للصلع...
لم يرد أبو وداد ولم يتحرك فيه ساكنة واستمر بالنظر إلى جميع الجهات داخل السوبرماركت المليء بالبضائع المرصوصة بإنتظام على الرفوف.
٢٠- البشار: ياأبو وداد تعال اتفرح على هالتيشرت اللي جابلي ياه عمك أبو البحر....خبرني انو بدو يبعتلك واحد متلو عليه صورة حاملة طائرات لتناسب مكانك القيادي...
٢١- يدخل الزبائن احياناً ومن جميع الأعمار وجلهم من الأمريكيين من أصل أفريقي حيث يشترون مستخدمين بطاقات مساعدة وكوبونات من الدولة. لم يمانع البشار بيعهم كحولاً ودخان بمساعدات الدولة لأنه من الواضح أن صاحب المحل هو المسؤول عن تلك السياسة
البشار: بتعرف أخو صاحب المحل اللي رحنا لعندو اليوم
أبو البحر: شبو؟
البشار: مسكتوا الحكومة عم بيبيع العالم بيرة للي معون هدول بطاقات الأكل خرا..هدول تبع الدولة...عندو محكمة وبدون يسكرو محله
٢٢- دخل إلى المكان رجل يرتدي ملابساً نسائية مثيرة مع شعر ورموش اصطناعية وحذاء ذو كعب عالي.
البشار: ليك على هالزبون الأخو شرموطة
أبو البحر: عنا منون كتير بنيويورك
البشار: بعرف، بس هون معظم الشراميط رجال
أبو البحر: لعمى...نيالكون ياعم
البشار: نيالنا على شو عمي...خود هالشرف لعندكون
٢٣- لم يتكلم أبو وداد خلال الساعات الثلاث التي قضاها مع البشار وزائره أبو البحر. بل اكتفى بالنظر بشكل اوتوماتيكي إلى كل شاردة وواردة في المحل.
٢٤- البشار: شايف أبو وداد صرعنا بكتر حكيو...بالله عليك أبو البحر خبروا انو صرعنا
يضحك الصديقان ويتابعان التحدث
أبو البحر: يازلمة الوئت هون بطيء
البشار: شوئصدك
أبو البحر: الثانية هون بثانيتين بنيويورك،،،بالعكس كل ثانيتين بنيويورك متل وحدة هون...
البشار: كلام صحيح...بنيويورك الحياة سريعة...بتصير ختيار بكير...متل صاحبك الكهل
أبو البحر: الكهل...لعمى شو ذكرك بهالمجنون التاني
البشار: (ضاحكاً) لازم نجمع الكهل وأبو حسن شي يوم
أبو البحر: (ضاحكاً) احسن فكرة سمعتا بحياتي ....تخيل شو بيصير...الكهل وأبو حسن..(يضحك الصديقان بشدة)
٢٥- أبو وداد : (وشط دهشة البشار الواضحة)..الكهل...شو هادا الكهل؟
أبو البحر: آلكهل هو واحد من جيلي سمى حاله الكهل من أيام الثانوية على أساس أنو بيعرف كل شي
البشار: والله انك شغلة ياأبو البحر...بتعرف إنك أول واحد بيخلي أبو وداد يحكي
أبو البحر: شبك يازلمة الكهل ظاهرة عجيبة
٢٦- دخل زبون سكران جداً يلبس سروالاً فقط من دون قميص، حافي. لم يحرك أبو وداد ساكنة وأكتفى بمراقبته من بعد. اتجه الزبون نحو احد البرادات المصفوفة أمام الحائط الخلفي للمحل واللتي تحتوي على المشروبات الكحولية وغير الكحولية بالإضافة إلى الماء والحليب. تناول الزبون أكبر زجاجة بيرة وأتى بها إلى البشار وبدون كلام وضع نقوداً واتجه للخارج. جمع البشار النقود وهم بوضعها في درج الحاسب الآلي.
أبو البحر: شو مارح تعد المصاري؟
البشار: معروفة...بدو يرجع لعندي بعد شي ساعة حتى يسكر لمابئى في يمشي وبعدين بيهر وبينام وين مايكون...بالشارع...بين السيارات مرة شفتو نايم سكران طينة...
٢٧- دقت الساعة السابعة
أبو البحر: يازلمة هون الوقت بطيء
البشار: خيو...خدلك شي وحدة من هدول مجلات النياكة...عنا شي تنين تلاتة..كنا نبيعون بعدين بطل المعلم مابعرف ليش
أبو البحر: أخي خلي هل المجلات من شانك..بدنا شي يسلينا
البشار: ولك شو بدك أكتر من هل الخيلات اللي عم يجو لهون...شو بدك أكتر من هيك؟
٢٨- أبو وداد: خبرتنا عن هادا الكهل....ماعرف شي واحد منكون يضربوا؟
أبو البحر: الكهل لو العالم فكروا جد كانو شبعوا ضرب...بس الكل عرف انو مسخرة
أبو وداد: والله مسخرة طبعاً
البشار: ولك شو ياأبو وداد...حكيت اليوم اكتر من السنة الماضية..
٢٩- يمر الوقت ببطء شديد...أبو البحر ينظر إلى الساعة الكبيرة الموجودة على الحائط
البشار: شو يازلمي حاكينا وخود الغلة
أبو البحر: الله يساعدك يازلمة...بس خبرني ليش تركت نيويورك واجيت لهل الحارة الغريبة العجيبة اللي مابعرف إذا الواحد بيعيش أو بيموت بالشغل
البشار: خيو الجامعة هون واخادوني...شوبدك أحسن من هيك...بعد سنتين أو تلاتة عمك هون بيعدل شهادتو وبيرجع مهندس
أبو البحر: الله يوفقك
البشار: وئتا بكون مليت من هل الحارة واللي فيا....بهالايام أنا بدي جمع فرنكين وبس
٣٠- تمر نفس الأحداث و يدخل العديد من الزبائن إلى المحل والبشار يعمل وكذللك الصامت أبو وداد.
٣١- يدخل الزبون السكران اللذي سبق وإشترى زجاجة بيرة ويتجه نحو الثلاجة نفسها ويكرر مافعله منذ ساعة. لم يحرك البشار ساكنة عندما وضع الزبون النقود أمامه، بل اكتفى بمراقبته حتى خرج من المحل.
البشار: مؤدب هالسكير
أبو البحر: يبدو عليه شخصية محترمة
البشار: لاحظت أنو لابس برجلوا هال المرة
أبو البحر: كام مرة لسا بتشوفوا؟
البشار: حسب...مرات بنسى...شفتوا مرة نايم جنب الباب...
أبو البحر: مبين عنو سكير مبسوط
البشار: عنا كل شرموطة كل مابتسكر بتسوي مشاكل مع كل الشراميط والعرصات..
أبو البحر: لعمى...بدنا نشوف شي متل هيك اليوم
البشار: انت وحظك
٣٢- يدردش الصديقان ويضحكان وأبو وداد واقف كالصنم حركته الوحيدة ملاحقة الزبائن بعينيه خلال تنقلهم في المحل.
البشار: بدك بوظة؟
أبو البحر: شو رأيك؟
البشار: والله أنا بعرف أنو أبو البحر بيحب الليمون..أو الشوكولا...
أبو البحر: بتتذكر أيام الفول؟
البشار: إيه...رزء الله على هديك الأيام...ياأبو وداد كنا أنا وعمك أبو البحر نروح عند واحد مصري بأستوريا ونشتري صندوق فول في ٦٤ علبة...كانوا يضلوا عنا شهر...كل يوم فول...صبح ومسا
أبو البحر: رزء الله على هديك الأيام
البشار: بالله عليك كيف القحاب؟ (يضحكان بشدة ولمدة طويلة ...لأول مرة ابتسم أبو وداد)
٣٣- تدخل امرأتين إلى المحل حيث يبدو عليهما انهما من المومسات. ترتدي احدهم فستانا قصيراً جداً مع حذاء بكعب عالي جداً.
امرأة 1: Hey big guy
البشار: What do you want
امرأة 2:Do not talk to us like that
البشار:Now you what do you want
امرأة 1:A pack of Menthol and a lighter
البشار:4 dollars
امرأة 2: I want the same
البشار:Why didn't you say before?
امرأة 1:(تنظر بحنان نحو أبو البحر)Who is he
البشار:He is my friend from New York
امرأة 2:Come and say hi to us. Your friend knows where to find us
٣٤- خرجت المومستان وضحك الصديقان بعد أن تحدثا معهما لفترة قصيرة
أبو البحر: شايف أنو الشراميط والقحاب هون كويسين
البشار: بحياتي مامسيت وحدة منون...كلو حكي بس....شو بدك تزورون بعدين مبين عليك معجب
أبو البحر: بس مايكونوا رجال
البشار: لا لا...هدول قحاب وأنا بعرفون..زبايني يازلمة وبعرف العرصة تبعون كمان.
٣٥- دخل سكران جديد إلى المحل وبالطبع تتبع أبو وداد حركته التي بالطبع كانت نحو البراد الحاوي للبيرة حيث انتقى أكبرهم حجماً، الأربعين أونصة، وأتى بها إلى البشار الذي حيا الزبون بحركة من رأسه.
٣٦- رجعت المومستان واشتروا هذه المرة بعض العلك. كان يبدوا عليهم التسرع ولهذا فقد غادروا المحل بسرعة ولكن بعد أن أرسلوا للشباب بعض القبل الهوائية براحات يدهم
٣٧-رجع السكير نفسه وأخذ زجاجة ودفع ثمنها بسرعة وخرج.
٣٨- نظر أبو البحر إلى صديقه البشار وقال:
أبو البحر: بتعرف
البشار: شو؟
أبو البحر: صرلي عم راقبك كل النهار وشفت أنو عن جد العالم هون بيحبوك...حتى السكير والشراميط والولاد الصغار...يازلمة شفتك عم تعطيون شي ببلاش
البشار: ولك مساكين الله يعينون...العالم كلها ضدون
أبو البحر: الله يساعدون .......شفت بعينك حالة الناس هون......الناس خير وبركة..
٣٩- .......(تتبع)
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
سر حمل البشار وصديقه أبو البحر للمسدسات المحشية؟
1- في مطار مدينة صغيرة في فلوريدا وقف البشار ينتظر صديقه العزيز القادم من نيويورك. لم تتأخر الطائرة وأطل الصديق ليرى البشار بقامته الطويلة وكتفيه العريضين مبتسماً:
البشار: أبو البحر......شو ....اهلا فيك...(معانقاً صديقه)
أبو البحر: أبو الدمار...كل مانك عم تكبر..(معانقاً صديقه).....
أبو الدمار: شو أخبارك يازعيم؟ وين القحاب؟
أبو البحر: الأمور خريانة متل العادة...شغل متل الحمار ومفلس متل العادة....
2- في السيارة من المطار يفتح أبو البحر حقيبته ويخرج بعض الشرائط ويناولها لصديقه المتصبب عرقاً في ذلك الجو الحار...
أبو البحر: "جبتلك شرايط بدا تعجبك..وكمان جبتلك تي شيرت على كيفك (يخرج أبو البحر قميصاً قطنياً أبيض اللون من الحجم الكبير جداً مطبوع عليه صورة مسدس وكتب تحتها بالإنكليزية عبارة ترجمتها "هنا نيويورك وليس كانساس").
3- نظر البشار إلى القميص القطني الأبيض اللون بينما مازال يقود سيارته الهوندا سيفيك الزرقاء اللون بسرعة عالية مستمعاً بطرب لصباح فخري..
البشار:This is New York and Not Kansas....شوهالحكي..أنا بدي فرجيك هون طخ الرصاص يامعلم...شوهالتيشرت هادا...ياعمي هون مطرح أنا مابشتغل بيصير عنا طخ رصاص أكتر من جد نيويورك...هههههه...والله عال....
أبو البحر: على مهلك يامعلم!...شو هالحكي...عندك هون طخ رصاص...رجاءً رجعني عالمطار...(يضحك الصديقان...)
4- في السيارة الحارة يتكلم الصديقان ويضحكان....
6-.... البشار: بشتغل هون متل الحمار من الساعة وحدة الضهر للساعة تلاتة بعد نص الليل....وقت بسكر مافي حدا بالحارة غير الزعران والشراميط وهالكام سعدان عم يلعبوا سلة..
أبو البحر: لعمى! شي يبخري لكن...شومابتلعب سلة معون!
البشار: مرات...متل ايامنا انا وياك بنيويورك...بتتذكر لما كنا نكبس مع السكيرة بعد نص الليل...بالله عليك شو صار مع هدول اللي كنا نلعب معون
أبو البحر: لساتون عم يلعبوا بنفس الملعب..أنا بروح بلعب معون كل فترة والتانية...
البشار: عنا كل لاعب هون متل النمر....بس عمك هون مشوفون نجوم الضهر....
٦- يصل البشار وصديقه إلى مصف سيارات خارج سوبرماركت في حي فقير مسكون من غالبية من أصل أفريقي. علائم البؤس والإهمال تسود المكان.
٧- دخل البشار وصديقه إلى المحل حيث كان صاحبه مشغولاً بأوراق عديدة.
صاحب المحل: بدي منك تروح عالبنك وتحط هالمصاري بالحساب وبعدين مر على أخي وخود منه اللي بيعطيك ياه
البشار: ماشي..... وبعدين.... بدي وصل أبو البحر على بيتي وبكون عندك حوالي التلاتة
٨- في السيارة أخرج البشار أحد الشرائط الجديدة اللتي جلبها له أبو البحر ووضعها في جهاز التسجيل.
البشار: شو أخبار الشباب بنيويورك؟ عم بتشوف حدا؟
أبو البحر: عم شوف أبو حسن
٩- ضحك البشار كثيراً عند سماع اسم أبو حسن. هز رأسه ثم استرسل بالضحك الذي انتشر ألى أبو البحر أيضاً.
البشار: لآخر يوم بعمري مابنسى أفلام أبو حسن.....(هازاً برأسه ضاحكاُ)
أبو البحر: ماراح تستوعب شو بدي خبرك على آخر أفلامو
البشار: شو...دخيل ربك هات...احكي بسرعة...
أبو البحر: والله كنت بالبيت عم ادرس ..كان عندي فحص بالجامعة وإذا بتليفوني بيرن..عمك أبو حسن خبرني انو جاي لعندي لأنو عندو خبر هام جداً..أنا الحمار صدقت انو عندو خبر هام
البشار: وشو طلع هالخبر الهام؟
أبو البحر: اجى لعندي ومعو علبة بلاستيك فيا سائل أسود...خبرني أنو أخو بالشام أخترعوا...وهادا السائل دواء للصلع
البشار: شو!!!!
أبو البحر: نعم ياأستاذ..أخو أبو حسن اخترع كما روى أبو حسن ومن أعشاب دوا للصلعان....
البشار: وانت شو عملت...انشاالله ماتكون ضيعت وقتك مع هالزعيم.
أبو البحر: شورأيك؟ أنا مجنون...اتسمعتلوا شي ساعة وبعدين رحت عالشغل...ماعندي وئت يازلمة...
١٠- دخل البشار الثلاثيني إلى منزله المكون من طابق واحد في شارع مشجر واللذي يعكس شخصيته. ثياب وكتب مبعثرة ومطبخ مكركب بالإضافة إلى بعض كرات السلة مع بعض الصور المؤرخة لحياته السابقة من صور وكؤوس.
١١- في كاراج منزل البشار ضحك البشار عندما اتجه صديقه أبو البحر إلى السيارة للعودة إلى السوبرماركت.
البشار: بدنا نروح عالبسكليت كلا خمس دئايئ من هون للمحل
١٢- ركب الصديقان الدراجات الهوائية واتجها نحو المحل والبشار في المقدمة بحجمه الضخم جداً مرتديا سروالاً قصيرا كان قد غير إليه من ثيابه المليئة بالعرق مع القميص القطني الأبيض اللون اللذي جلبه له صديقه أبو البحر. كانت علائم السعادة في كل زاوية من وجه الصديقين.
البشار: ولك أهلا وسهلاً فيك أبو البحر
١٣- دخل البشار وصديقه السوبرماركت ليجدا صاحب المحل يصفف المنتوجات مع شخص يشبهه ولكن أكبر عمراً. صافح البشار وكذلك أبو البحر كلا الشخصين.
البشار: هاد أبو البحر من عضام الرئبة...كنا نلعب ضد بعض بسوريا..أنا مع نادي الجيش وهو مع سعادين حطين.
صاحب المحل: تشرفنا أخ أبو البحر
البشار: (مشيراً إلى الرجل الآخر) وهاد ياأبو البحر الأخ أبو وداد بشتغل أنا ويا كل يوم لنسكر بس مشكلتوا مانوا حكوجي متلك
صاحب المحل (مقاطعاً): هيك أحسن...خير الكلام ماقل ودل
١٤- خرج صاحب المحل واتجه إلى سيارته وانطلق بسرعة. لاحظ أبو البحر لمرة أخرى علائم البؤس في المنطقة. وكذلك شاهد بعض الأولاد الأمريكيون من أصل أفريقي يلعبون كرة السلة، بمهارة طبعاً. وقف وتفرج.
١٥- نظر أبو البحر إلى المحل من الداخل ولاحظ أن صديقه البشار كان قد انتقل إلى خلف الثلاجتين المشكلتين لحاجز من نوع ما حيث وضعت المنتوجات فوق أحدهما وقفص زجاجي يحتوي على دخان من أنواع عديدة. من خلال هذا القفص ظهر البشار ومن خلال الكوة المفتوحة ليقبض من الزبائن أسعار المشتريات ليضعها في ألة حساب جلست خلف ذلك الحاجز.
البشار: تعا لهون من ورا البراد...هون مركز القيادة والتحكم.
١٦- عندما عبر أبو البحر إلى الجانب الآخر لاحظ فوراً المسدسين الموضوعين داخل صندوق دخان مفتوح لذلك الغرض على يمين كرسي البشار تحت جهاز تلفزيون موضوع تحت جهاز آخر يعرض ماتسجله أربعة كاميرات موضوعة في مناطق استراتيجية داخل المحل. لاحظ البشار ماشاهده صديقه وضحك.
البشار: شو رأيك....جايبلي ئميص عليه صورة مسدس...والله عال..
أبو البحر: شايف انك مسلح تمام
البشار: كان عنا روسية الشهر الماضي بس صاحب المحل عطاها لأخوه بعد مامات شب متل الوردة من حواريكم ياأبو البحر...دخلوا عليه وكان لوحدو وبدون أي كلام طخوه شي خمس رصاصات الله يرحمو
أبو البحر: وهادا أبو وداد برأيك فينو يمنع حدا
البشار: أنا أبو الدمار ولا أبو خرى...كل واحد داخل لهون الله يرحمو اذا بدو يترازل...
نظر أبو البحر إلى صديقه وانفجر كلاهما بالضحك الشديد....
أبو البحر: أبو خرى بيدمر العالم كلوا.......
١٧- البشار: مرة اتصل معي صاحب المحل وئلي تعا عالمحل بكير.....عمك هون نشيط والحمد لله وماكان عندي شي....ركبت عالبسكليته ومتل الصاروخ كنت هون...ومتل مبتعرف صاحب المحل مابيكب زبالة...اجا عمك هون بعد ماجمعت كياس الزبالة رحت بدي كبون بالحاوية ورا المحل وحزر شو شفت جوات الحاوية....
أبو البحر: شو شفت؟
البشار: واحد اسود مخردق بالرصاص ...كل جسمو مخردق...شي أخو شرموطة رشو وزتو هون..اجو الشرطة والاسعاف واخدو
١٨- يدخل زبون ويتوجه إلى احدى الثلاجات ويخرج شيئا ويتجه نحو البشار لدفع الثمن
الزبون: Wassup
البشار: Chillin
الزبون: Did not see you ballin for a while
البشار: Tonight may be to show my friend here whassup
الزبون:Later
١٩- البشار: لكن أخو أبو حسن اخترع دوا للصلع....اسمعت يا أبو وداد اخترعوا دوا للصلع...
لم يرد أبو وداد ولم يتحرك فيه ساكنة واستمر بالنظر إلى جميع الجهات داخل السوبرماركت المليء بالبضائع المرصوصة بإنتظام على الرفوف.
٢٠- البشار: ياأبو وداد تعال اتفرح على هالتيشرت اللي جابلي ياه عمك أبو البحر....خبرني انو بدو يبعتلك واحد متلو عليه صورة حاملة طائرات لتناسب مكانك القيادي...
٢١- يدخل الزبائن احياناً ومن جميع الأعمار وجلهم من الأمريكيين من أصل أفريقي حيث يشترون مستخدمين بطاقات مساعدة وكوبونات من الدولة. لم يمانع البشار بيعهم كحولاً ودخان بمساعدات الدولة لأنه من الواضح أن صاحب المحل هو المسؤول عن تلك السياسة
البشار: بتعرف أخو صاحب المحل اللي رحنا لعندو اليوم
أبو البحر: شبو؟
البشار: مسكتوا الحكومة عم بيبيع العالم بيرة للي معون هدول بطاقات الأكل خرا..هدول تبع الدولة...عندو محكمة وبدون يسكرو محله
٢٢- دخل إلى المكان رجل يرتدي ملابساً نسائية مثيرة مع شعر ورموش اصطناعية وحذاء ذو كعب عالي.
البشار: ليك على هالزبون الأخو شرموطة
أبو البحر: عنا منون كتير بنيويورك
البشار: بعرف، بس هون معظم الشراميط رجال
أبو البحر: لعمى...نيالكون ياعم
البشار: نيالنا على شو عمي...خود هالشرف لعندكون
٢٣- لم يتكلم أبو وداد خلال الساعات الثلاث التي قضاها مع البشار وزائره أبو البحر. بل اكتفى بالنظر بشكل اوتوماتيكي إلى كل شاردة وواردة في المحل.
٢٤- البشار: شايف أبو وداد صرعنا بكتر حكيو...بالله عليك أبو البحر خبروا انو صرعنا
يضحك الصديقان ويتابعان التحدث
أبو البحر: يازلمة الوئت هون بطيء
البشار: شوئصدك
أبو البحر: الثانية هون بثانيتين بنيويورك،،،بالعكس كل ثانيتين بنيويورك متل وحدة هون...
البشار: كلام صحيح...بنيويورك الحياة سريعة...بتصير ختيار بكير...متل صاحبك الكهل
أبو البحر: الكهل...لعمى شو ذكرك بهالمجنون التاني
البشار: (ضاحكاً) لازم نجمع الكهل وأبو حسن شي يوم
أبو البحر: (ضاحكاً) احسن فكرة سمعتا بحياتي ....تخيل شو بيصير...الكهل وأبو حسن..(يضحك الصديقان بشدة)
٢٥- أبو وداد : (وشط دهشة البشار الواضحة)..الكهل...شو هادا الكهل؟
أبو البحر: آلكهل هو واحد من جيلي سمى حاله الكهل من أيام الثانوية على أساس أنو بيعرف كل شي
البشار: والله انك شغلة ياأبو البحر...بتعرف إنك أول واحد بيخلي أبو وداد يحكي
أبو البحر: شبك يازلمة الكهل ظاهرة عجيبة
٢٦- دخل زبون سكران جداً يلبس سروالاً فقط من دون قميص، حافي. لم يحرك أبو وداد ساكنة وأكتفى بمراقبته من بعد. اتجه الزبون نحو احد البرادات المصفوفة أمام الحائط الخلفي للمحل واللتي تحتوي على المشروبات الكحولية وغير الكحولية بالإضافة إلى الماء والحليب. تناول الزبون أكبر زجاجة بيرة وأتى بها إلى البشار وبدون كلام وضع نقوداً واتجه للخارج. جمع البشار النقود وهم بوضعها في درج الحاسب الآلي.
أبو البحر: شو مارح تعد المصاري؟
البشار: معروفة...بدو يرجع لعندي بعد شي ساعة حتى يسكر لمابئى في يمشي وبعدين بيهر وبينام وين مايكون...بالشارع...بين السيارات مرة شفتو نايم سكران طينة...
٢٧- دقت الساعة السابعة
أبو البحر: يازلمة هون الوقت بطيء
البشار: خيو...خدلك شي وحدة من هدول مجلات النياكة...عنا شي تنين تلاتة..كنا نبيعون بعدين بطل المعلم مابعرف ليش
أبو البحر: أخي خلي هل المجلات من شانك..بدنا شي يسلينا
البشار: ولك شو بدك أكتر من هل الخيلات اللي عم يجو لهون...شو بدك أكتر من هيك؟
٢٨- أبو وداد: خبرتنا عن هادا الكهل....ماعرف شي واحد منكون يضربوا؟
أبو البحر: الكهل لو العالم فكروا جد كانو شبعوا ضرب...بس الكل عرف انو مسخرة
أبو وداد: والله مسخرة طبعاً
البشار: ولك شو ياأبو وداد...حكيت اليوم اكتر من السنة الماضية..
٢٩- يمر الوقت ببطء شديد...أبو البحر ينظر إلى الساعة الكبيرة الموجودة على الحائط
البشار: شو يازلمي حاكينا وخود الغلة
أبو البحر: الله يساعدك يازلمة...بس خبرني ليش تركت نيويورك واجيت لهل الحارة الغريبة العجيبة اللي مابعرف إذا الواحد بيعيش أو بيموت بالشغل
البشار: خيو الجامعة هون واخادوني...شوبدك أحسن من هيك...بعد سنتين أو تلاتة عمك هون بيعدل شهادتو وبيرجع مهندس
أبو البحر: الله يوفقك
البشار: وئتا بكون مليت من هل الحارة واللي فيا....بهالايام أنا بدي جمع فرنكين وبس
٣٠- تمر نفس الأحداث و يدخل العديد من الزبائن إلى المحل والبشار يعمل وكذللك الصامت أبو وداد.
٣١- يدخل الزبون السكران اللذي سبق وإشترى زجاجة بيرة ويتجه نحو الثلاجة نفسها ويكرر مافعله منذ ساعة. لم يحرك البشار ساكنة عندما وضع الزبون النقود أمامه، بل اكتفى بمراقبته حتى خرج من المحل.
البشار: مؤدب هالسكير
أبو البحر: يبدو عليه شخصية محترمة
البشار: لاحظت أنو لابس برجلوا هال المرة
أبو البحر: كام مرة لسا بتشوفوا؟
البشار: حسب...مرات بنسى...شفتوا مرة نايم جنب الباب...
أبو البحر: مبين عنو سكير مبسوط
البشار: عنا كل شرموطة كل مابتسكر بتسوي مشاكل مع كل الشراميط والعرصات..
أبو البحر: لعمى...بدنا نشوف شي متل هيك اليوم
البشار: انت وحظك
٣٢- يدردش الصديقان ويضحكان وأبو وداد واقف كالصنم حركته الوحيدة ملاحقة الزبائن بعينيه خلال تنقلهم في المحل.
البشار: بدك بوظة؟
أبو البحر: شو رأيك؟
البشار: والله أنا بعرف أنو أبو البحر بيحب الليمون..أو الشوكولا...
أبو البحر: بتتذكر أيام الفول؟
البشار: إيه...رزء الله على هديك الأيام...ياأبو وداد كنا أنا وعمك أبو البحر نروح عند واحد مصري بأستوريا ونشتري صندوق فول في ٦٤ علبة...كانوا يضلوا عنا شهر...كل يوم فول...صبح ومسا
أبو البحر: رزء الله على هديك الأيام
البشار: بالله عليك كيف القحاب؟ (يضحكان بشدة ولمدة طويلة ...لأول مرة ابتسم أبو وداد)
٣٣- تدخل امرأتين إلى المحل حيث يبدو عليهما انهما من المومسات. ترتدي احدهم فستانا قصيراً جداً مع حذاء بكعب عالي جداً.
امرأة 1: Hey big guy
البشار: What do you want
امرأة 2:Do not talk to us like that
البشار:Now you what do you want
امرأة 1:A pack of Menthol and a lighter
البشار:4 dollars
امرأة 2: I want the same
البشار:Why didn't you say before?
امرأة 1:(تنظر بحنان نحو أبو البحر)Who is he
البشار:He is my friend from New York
امرأة 2:Come and say hi to us. Your friend knows where to find us
٣٤- خرجت المومستان وضحك الصديقان بعد أن تحدثا معهما لفترة قصيرة
أبو البحر: شايف أنو الشراميط والقحاب هون كويسين
البشار: بحياتي مامسيت وحدة منون...كلو حكي بس....شو بدك تزورون بعدين مبين عليك معجب
أبو البحر: بس مايكونوا رجال
البشار: لا لا...هدول قحاب وأنا بعرفون..زبايني يازلمة وبعرف العرصة تبعون كمان.
٣٥- دخل سكران جديد إلى المحل وبالطبع تتبع أبو وداد حركته التي بالطبع كانت نحو البراد الحاوي للبيرة حيث انتقى أكبرهم حجماً، الأربعين أونصة، وأتى بها إلى البشار الذي حيا الزبون بحركة من رأسه.
٣٦- رجعت المومستان واشتروا هذه المرة بعض العلك. كان يبدوا عليهم التسرع ولهذا فقد غادروا المحل بسرعة ولكن بعد أن أرسلوا للشباب بعض القبل الهوائية براحات يدهم
٣٧-رجع السكير نفسه وأخذ زجاجة ودفع ثمنها بسرعة وخرج.
٣٨- نظر أبو البحر إلى صديقه البشار وقال:
أبو البحر: بتعرف
البشار: شو؟
أبو البحر: صرلي عم راقبك كل النهار وشفت أنو عن جد العالم هون بيحبوك...حتى السكير والشراميط والولاد الصغار...يازلمة شفتك عم تعطيون شي ببلاش
البشار: ولك مساكين الله يعينون...العالم كلها ضدون
أبو البحر: الله يساعدون .......شفت بعينك حالة الناس هون......الناس خير وبركة..
٣٩- .......(تتبع)
chapter 52 from the Substitute
From the Tales of Abu Hazza al-Talsamani
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
52-
“After five hours of steaming, the wood supply was almost exhausted, and a pile of wooden poles was noticed outside a village. The operations went ‘smooth’ till a ‘large cloud of black mud’ approached. At this moment, both ships were in the water. The expedition had survived sandstorms before, but this one happened when the steamers were at Is-Geria a spot with many rocks and deep water. Soon, they discovered that the steamers were in the direct path of the ‘storm.’ Soon also, they discovered it was not a usual storm: it was a hurricane. Ainsworth recalled later that ‘the hurricane came as a warm dry wind laden with the fragrance of the aromatic plants of the wilderness followed in few instants by a tremendous blasts of wind, with some rain in large drops.’ The first gust blew the stern of the Tigris, and some of its men were able to jump ashore to try to tie the steamer to some rocks. But, the afternoon became as dark as midnight, and the wind and water started toying with the helpless Tigris, that was to be caught in the eye of that hurricane that came to them in one gigantic black cloud of mud. Chesney speaks very little about the drowning of the Tigris. He said it very briefly where ‘she [the Tigris] soon disappeared in a cloud of sand,’ and last seen with its keel upward. In reality, the make of the Tigris left very little space for windows. Dr. Helfer speaks of a window shutter that ‘had been driven in.’ The river water came up angry in high wavers to fill the iron monster that brought the machine for the first time to spit oil in its stream, with men on board shooting the lions and the other animals that lived in that thriving habitat. The ‘dispenser of modernity and modern knowledge, the artillery officer Chesney, soon made a decision not to go down with the drowning ship or men. He jumped onto the shore running from that massive natural display of power that belittled his engines, guns, and Congreve Rockets he had on board. So when the ship was slammed to the rocks, the Captain made his escape and ran ashore. Cleavland who was able to bring the ship ‘up her head’ and set the engine at full speed to the bank saved the other steamer, the Euphrates. Twenty of the thirty-seven persons on board were drowned, among them R. Lynch, Yusuf Sader, all gunners, five seamen, an engineer, and five ‘natives.’ Chesney mentioned them as 5 Arabs, but from their names one could tell that they were something else.”
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
52-
“After five hours of steaming, the wood supply was almost exhausted, and a pile of wooden poles was noticed outside a village. The operations went ‘smooth’ till a ‘large cloud of black mud’ approached. At this moment, both ships were in the water. The expedition had survived sandstorms before, but this one happened when the steamers were at Is-Geria a spot with many rocks and deep water. Soon, they discovered that the steamers were in the direct path of the ‘storm.’ Soon also, they discovered it was not a usual storm: it was a hurricane. Ainsworth recalled later that ‘the hurricane came as a warm dry wind laden with the fragrance of the aromatic plants of the wilderness followed in few instants by a tremendous blasts of wind, with some rain in large drops.’ The first gust blew the stern of the Tigris, and some of its men were able to jump ashore to try to tie the steamer to some rocks. But, the afternoon became as dark as midnight, and the wind and water started toying with the helpless Tigris, that was to be caught in the eye of that hurricane that came to them in one gigantic black cloud of mud. Chesney speaks very little about the drowning of the Tigris. He said it very briefly where ‘she [the Tigris] soon disappeared in a cloud of sand,’ and last seen with its keel upward. In reality, the make of the Tigris left very little space for windows. Dr. Helfer speaks of a window shutter that ‘had been driven in.’ The river water came up angry in high wavers to fill the iron monster that brought the machine for the first time to spit oil in its stream, with men on board shooting the lions and the other animals that lived in that thriving habitat. The ‘dispenser of modernity and modern knowledge, the artillery officer Chesney, soon made a decision not to go down with the drowning ship or men. He jumped onto the shore running from that massive natural display of power that belittled his engines, guns, and Congreve Rockets he had on board. So when the ship was slammed to the rocks, the Captain made his escape and ran ashore. Cleavland who was able to bring the ship ‘up her head’ and set the engine at full speed to the bank saved the other steamer, the Euphrates. Twenty of the thirty-seven persons on board were drowned, among them R. Lynch, Yusuf Sader, all gunners, five seamen, an engineer, and five ‘natives.’ Chesney mentioned them as 5 Arabs, but from their names one could tell that they were something else.”
حرية الكلام
نموذج عن ماحذفته رقابة إحدى الصحف الألكترونية لتحمي أحد كتابها الذي مازال يكتب قصاصات مليئة بالسفاهات مدعياً أنه مفكر مدعوماً من شلة سطحيين مثله
المثال
يقصد الكاتب حوار طحلبي مع الذات حول اللاشيء وبعد قليل سيهاجم الكاتب ركن التعليقات أيضاً...على مهلك ياكاتبنا الموقر ...سيادة الفكر الطحلبي الخلبي واضحة..مقال مكتوب لإستدرار بعض التعليقات ليس بمقال بل طلقة خلبية في فوضة الزحمة اللافكرية في زمن الهشاشة والإقصائيات الغوغائية مع التحية من فرع هامشي
المثال
يقصد الكاتب حوار طحلبي مع الذات حول اللاشيء وبعد قليل سيهاجم الكاتب ركن التعليقات أيضاً...على مهلك ياكاتبنا الموقر ...سيادة الفكر الطحلبي الخلبي واضحة..مقال مكتوب لإستدرار بعض التعليقات ليس بمقال بل طلقة خلبية في فوضة الزحمة اللافكرية في زمن الهشاشة والإقصائيات الغوغائية مع التحية من فرع هامشي
Thursday, June 5, 2008
About the types of weapons
من حكايا أبو هزاع الطلسماني
From the tales of Abu Hazza' al-Talsamani
About the types of weapons
Samer kicked the large window shattering it into small pieces. We went through them and picked few good ones to smooth the surface of our wooden desk that we shared. The window was at our old elementary school where a ball or a rock had gone through it leaving a huge hole in the middle. It was thick glass and good for what we wanted to do. We had played soccer all afternoon in the school. We also threw the cork bombs we made over the last few days. They made an amazing sound. You could have heard the explosion from our house. We ran. Each of us threw one. Samer was faster because he was taller, but he ran funny. Bashar was nowhere to be found that day.
WE parted ways. Samer went to his home that he shared with his older brother, older sister as well as both of his parents. And I went home to where my two older sisters and well as my two younger ones lived with both of my parents. My brother, who was the eldest among us left a month ago to go to the medical college in the Capital?
My mother screamed at me and said I was dirty. She made me go and wash myself. My father had a book in his lap and was listening to the news on the radio and did not care to interfere. He was angry with me the day before, as well as all of last week, the weeks before that, and the few months before that also.
My father was smoking, of course. But to my luck, something was going on that day that made him not noticing my arrival. He was going through the radio stations fast. He knew the schedule of these stations and did not care to look at me when he heard my mother screaming at me. Then, while still smoking his cigarette, he rolled another one and placed it on the arm of the chair he was sitting on next to the radio in our living room.
Skinny Samer and I were together in the same 7th grade branch or Shu‘ba as it was called in Arabic. The school contained grades from the 7th to the 12th. There was 4 Shu‘bas of Seven graders with around 52 students in each one. Three of them studied English as the foreign language and the forth took French. All other subjects were taught in Arabic.
Samer and I were in the Second Branch, or al-Shu‘ba al-Thaniyah. The French had smaller number of students.
The name of our middle school was Usama Ibn Zaid, a Muslim who died fighting the Romans in the early days of Islam. It later became a high school, from which I later graduated. The city had two major high schools, with many middle schools. Usama Ibn Zaid used to be downtown, where al-Nidal Elementary School now. My brother went there before going to the nearby al-Maliki High School, one of the two main high schools in the city. The director of my school, a short man with jet black think hair, reminded me on my first day that my brother was a good student. As a matter of fact, my brother was a great student, one of the best to ever come through our city.
My brother graduated from al-Maliki the same year I graduated my elementary school. al-Maliki, by the way, was an army officer who was assassinated in the 1950’s during a soccer game in the Capital. The other big high school in the city was also named after a man died in 1956 during the British, Israeli and French attack on Egypt when he rammed his torpedo boat into a French warship, as they say.
It was common to believe among us boys that those who decided to take French as their second language were soft. My brother took French and was not soft at all. He was serious all the times. The French teacher of the seventh graders almost made Samer switch to French. We watched her everyday. Samer talked about her a lot. She was tall with wavy brown hair. Her posture was like those they write about in the poems I read in the books.
After leaving al-Ghafiqi Elementary School my parents enrolled me in Usama Ibn Zaid Secondary School. It was closer to our house than the ones downtown. Then, suddenly and after one month of schooling we were told that we were to be relocated to the new building next door that would be named the same but as a high school because it would offer tenth, eleventh and twelfth grades.
The new building was a U shaped- three story with small space for sport. WE did not understand things fully, because our biggest school was our elementary school, which had a full soccer field, a full basketball court, a full handball court, a volleyball court, a theater and a huge garden. We went from big to small and that did not make sense.
Transforming and then renaming was not new to our city. Take the sports teams for example, al-Sahel became Hutteen after adding al-Sharq to it and Tishreen is the old al-Hurriyah, al-Qadisiyah, al-Wathbah and al-‘Arabi. Our beautiful city was like that too. It was called many different names depending on the ruler and their likings.
**
They brought the desks from our old middle school to our “new” and “bigger” high school. They were not the same ones we had in mind. We wanted fresh new desks. Samer, Bashar and I were pissed for that because the tags from the year before were covering the face of the desk and we had to do the smoothing and cleaning before putting our throw ups. We already cleaned a lot from the desk we had for a month, but, we did not draw a thing on it.
‘Abd al-Rahman al-Ghafiqi Elementary School was on Samer’s block and about a block and a half from my house. It was the place we met to look for glass for our new project. We knew where to go and were able to find the broken window that we finished and collected few good pieces each.
Samer had came to the city to live after being born in Saudi Arabia where both his parents were teachers; his father was teaching history while his mother did Design. They were originally from a part of our land that was given by the French to the Turks. Most of his family left Iskandaron and came to live here among the large wave of refugees from that part of our land. Although Samer and his family were refugees of a sort, they were rich and affluent back in their home, so they were able to get comfortable living of a sort. My family had also came to the city from where I was born by the Capital. But, we were originally from the mountains sitting beautifully just east of the city. My brother and two older sisters were born in another city by the front and where my father was in the army military police before he retired and bought the house we live in now.
**
Our new school was an ugly one. It was a dark bleak grey building in the part of town called al-Qal‘a, which meant the Castle. The city is ancient, of course, and the layers of history are seen all over the place standing witness to what had happened. The high school rested on the eastern slope of the hill leading to the old Castle. Then at the top of that hill the city’s main water tank occupied the space of the northern side of that Castle that was destroyed over few violent attacks through out history. Nothing left of it but the name and small tiny part of its walls here and there. It is the highest point of the city that had witnessed lots of violent attacks throughout time. It also enjoyed great prosperous days too.
To the south of that ugly grey structure was an assortment of 14 mm anti aircraft guns to protect the army radar that occupied the southern tip of that hill. A cemetery spread on the southern slops too cheering up the atmosphere. Along our school there was another “new” school. It was the newly built College of Medicine of the newly established University in the city, along with the College of Civil Engineering. It occupied our school’s southern side. The sea was on the other side of the Castle. We used to go up to the Castle and watch the whole city from the top. The mountains occupied the whole eastern view of the city. In some places it intermingled with the city to create that lush place. The castles that were left from the older wars decorated that lovely mountain. One cannot see them quite well from the city itself. That did not bother us at. What we cared about that we could not see the sea from our four large windows in our classroom.
WE were on the second floor where you can see through our windows the huge yard in the back of the College where in the corner adjacent to our school’s wall there was the room where they kept the cadavers that were to be used for anatomy classes. My brother chose the medical school in the capital because it was better. He had moved out of our house just few months ago for the first time ever. He came home last weekend and stayed for two days. I asked him about the cadavers in that room. He brought with him some human bones that he bought for his anatomy classes. He also brought his books with him. He showed me things in his anatomy book. Every page of it was colored and not like the anatomy pictures in the big Arabic-English dictionary that we had in the house. The smaller dictionaries always carried those pictures, but not colored.
We did not smell the stench of death because the cadavers were kept as my brother said in a special liquid. Every now and then we would see the old janitor carrying one of them to be dissected. He would have them wrapped with blankets. He was a tall man with a little slouch who walked dragging his feet somehow.
Both of my older sisters went to al-Ba‘th Girls High School. It was the first one and the biggest now for girls in our city. Its name is the official name of the ruling party. It meant Renaissance, or Resurrection. The oldest was in her last year of High School and my other sister was in the Tenth grade. Al-Ba ‘th was between al-Qal ‘a and the sea. Both my sisters took the bus to school. The bus stop was on a corner from both al-Ghafiqi and our house. I walked with Samer to school everyday and always met by the bus stop because the other corner was where the huge dog that we scared laid waiting to attack us, or take a piece out of us. We noticed him many times just watching us.
**
Our new desks were still filled with all the tags and drawings done by the students who occupied the desk the year before. Some writings had the names of girls. We read them and always tried to figure out who did them. There was nothing like what we wanted to do. We needed first to take all of that writings and designs out and have the new wood pop from below the surface so we can draw our favorite tanks and jet fighters without any interruptions, at least till year's end. It would take us a week to finish the job by scrapping it with the pieces of the broken glass. Samer wanted to draw on his side over the others’ words, messages and tags because he does not want to clean his side a lot and preferred that look for its camouflaged effect.
**
I heard Samer whistling while I was still eating the sandwich my mother had made me. Together we were listening to her favorite morning radio show. I did not mind the show that much, but always preferred the ones my sister just older than I listened to all day when she could. My older sister did not care that much about the radio. She was reading most of the time. My two older sisters handled things differently. Each had her own vision of life and fought sometimes.
My eldest sister was just like my older brother; very serious. She was one of the best students in her high school all the time, while the sister just older than I was rebellious. She not only listened all day to radio shows, but also sent letters with her friends requesting songs. Soon her name was on the radio getting shout outs from people as far as Morocco. I laughed when I first heard her name on the radio on a show that is the Arabic version of a British request show. My mother was not amused with that at all. She told me father about it. My sister requested a dance disco song.
I picked my bag and made sure that I had the glass we collected the day before. We walked to school and to our surprise a long column of tanks loaded on huge trucks, and which were covered by large tarps, were heading out the seaport. They had to pass by our school on the way out of the city. We were able to distinguish the types of the tanks and its number. They were T 55’s and some soldier carriers. We were able to figure things out fast.
When we got to school, they lined us according to grade and made us sing the ruling party’s anthem then we saluted the President and entered the classes. Before, and when we were lined up, Samer and I stood toward the end of the class and the teachers watching us enter always kept an eye on those standing into the end. It was composed of those arriving late. We took our time watching the trucks. We counted many and were surprised to find most of them covered with tarps. We heard that at night they transport a lot of weapons too. Samer knew as much as I did about weapons. We knew a lot about airplanes. But, I knew more about World War II because of the two books I found. One of them was a story of a German Warship. The other was a list of all of the German gear in that war. Samer borrowed that from me to draw some of them. He was a better drawer than me, but I always came up with the stories.
Our first class was math as usual and the teacher made us show him our homework, which I had done with Samer. We worked on it the day before and right after lunch and right before our trip to our elementary school to play soccer and collect the glass. The math teacher lived in our neighborhood and one of his sons was in our class too. But, Rami, the math teacher’s son, did not know or cared about weapons like we did. He also played rarely with us in our old elementary school. He also had two brother one of them was really fat, but we liked him because he always wanted to be with us scheming.
That hour I managed to scrap a little of the surface. The teacher heard it while his back was turned to us and asked us to be quite. He was stern but not super tough. It was a tough hour on me though. But, I managed to listen to the teacher and write most of the important things and scrap few square inches. Samer did not scrap and instead wrote everything the teacher said in a very organized manner in his neat copybook. He was all ears because he loved mathematics and wanted to learn more, and wrote away. That hour was hard.
**
I always liked the touch of wood after you scrap is and remove a layer. I liked the smell of it too. And after the teacher gave us what we have to do at home for the next class and which was the first thing in the morning of the next day, and before our ‘Arabic teacher came in, Samer and I managed to scrap good ten minutes. The ‘Arabic teacher was a little late because he was having problems with the older students. He was old, but walked super fast.
**
Our ‘Arabic teacher busted into our boisterous room so quick that he almost tripped on the step of the platform occupying the space in front of our desks and underneath the blackboard that was framed into the wall facing us. On that platform there was a table and a chair right by the window giving the teacher a great view of the back yard and the action there. A map of the Arab World occupied the space behind the chair and in between where the blackboards ended and the window. The Arabic teacher had the thickest glasses among all of our teachers. Samer’s dad had big glasses too. He was a History teacher at our school, and taught the higher grades.
Our Arabic class was conjugation. We had a homework that I have done with the help of my older sister. My sister did not know anything about weapons like us boys, Samer and I. But she knew a lot about conjugation. She started reading lately the books that my brother had brought with him from the Capital. He told us about his new friends and brought us some tapes of songs, poetry and banned plays among other things. My father started tapping into that stack of books too.
I had to conjugate a line of poetry from a poem that I have to memorize on top of things. It was a long poem, but luckily, we had to memorize the first twenty lines from it. That fell, of course, into my father’s educational territory, since that he had to show that he was helping his kids in their schooling. He knew what we have to take every year, and asks all the times about something he could help with. He found it. It is memorization, something my father have been doing with my sisters and me for years. Math, Physics, Conjugation, Composition, and all the other hard subjects were the realms of my brother and older sister.
I conjugated the line, but I did not know more than the first eight lines of the poem. I knew who wrote it and know his life story by heart. My sister told me about the meter of the poem and many other technical things. My father got busy, to my delight, with something my mother made him do, and which he prolonged so he could go and pretend to have a shave or a haircut with his friend the barber where they would play backgammon for an hour or two.
I was lucky again that day and the teacher did not ask me to read the poem by heart. He chose another student, who started reading it while the teacher went through the class collecting the papers that included the conjugation assignment to take and grade. That meant that he had to walk from desk to desk. There were three lined of desks with two paths in between then. Each desk was occupied by two students except for some that had three, and by the time our teacher would go through them all, we would have a solid five to ten minutes of scrapping the desk.
After the Arabic class we had our first break, and all of the students in the school went to the yard. Before we left we made progress with our task. We were cut short and yelled at and send out of the class to the recess. Samer and I went and bought sandwiches along with Bashar my new friend and who lived right next to Samer. Being friends with Samer meant meeting Bashar all the times. We tried to go back into the class early but they did not let us. The doors from the yard into the building were closed. The School director and the principles were roaming that area along with some of the student body that runs what is called the “Discipline Unit.” They would not let us back in till due time.
We wanted to clean the rest of the desk. Samer told me that he would make his first drawing of a tank during our last hour, which was history. He wanted to draw the new tanks we saw them unloading off one of the ships in the seaport. We saw that when we were sent to the main post office down town to mail something. That post office was downtown and we had to take the bus. It was right next to the northern exit of the port and where one could see the ships on the docks and what they were unloading. My parents did not know that I left the neighborhood and took the bus.
By the end of the recess they had to line us again, but without singing the anthem of the party or saluting the President and shouting wishes for him to lead us forever. We have done all of that in the morning. At this time students had to be in classes fast. But, all students try to slow the process as possible. Samer and I would stay by the end of the line that had to be according to height. We should stand almost to the front since that we were among the shortest segment. The ones who stood in the back were the tallest ones some of which are the ones who failed the pass to the 8th grade and those kids that grow up fast at an early age. Ammar was one of them and he also was from our hood. He just lived with his family on the ground floor of the two-story building where Samer lived. Ammar was around six feet already with facial hair. He was sought after by the basketball teams in the city and always challenged us to play him in al-Ghafiqi our old elementary school. Samer, who always wanted to be taller, and who started having lots of hair on his forearms and legs, would ask me to play basketball with Ammar.
The third and the forth classes were hard and slow and we were not able to do lots of work except for the five minutes window between the classes. We had Physics and the teachers of both subjects intimidated Chemistry and us. The Physics teacher hits few students almost every class. He knew when to strike and whom to pick up for that and why. We were bellow his radar sitting in the first raw writing away what he was saying and cleaning our desks every time we could, like during the fights for example. He never suspected what we were doing because we had our homework on time all the times. He lived on our street closer to the bus stop and snitched on me few times to my parents.
The Chemistry teacher was the same, tough, rough and not too many things could pass him. He was mad most of the times and cursed at our parents many times. Again, we always had our homework ready for that monster that would boast about his beating to other students all the times. Our second recess was next and we tried to play with the other student with the basketball they were able to bring from the sports room.
The older students, and many of who play for the clubs of the city, played of course. We waited to be picked and when we were passed we decided to try and get back to our class but to no avail. They lined us up, where Samer and I were standing in the first line trying to get to our desks as soon as possible.
The last class was History because our lovely English teacher was not feeling well. We wanted to see her badly. Samer was telling me about how much he saw of her when he passed by the teachers’ room the other day and where she was wearing a skirt. Every student was in love with her I always thought. Samer and I had a crush on her of course. Samer told me that most of the teachers were in love with her. I believed all of that. But, both of us agree that the French teacher of the seventh grade was as sexy.
That day and to our dismay, instead of her in her pants and shirt we had our sweaty principle with the huge round face, and who subs as a history teacher, came in. He was tired and sat on the table and never moved and started by asking us to write notes of what he was saying. He took his feet out of his shoes and started his normal diatribes.
It was the last hour and the most boring one of the days. We were waiting to go home. The teacher was not into what he was talking about. He was telling us about some glorious past. We were sitting in front of him in the first row of desks looking straight at him and nodding to everything he said. He did not suspect that we had one hand with a pen while the other had the piece of glass scraping underneath the notebook that was serving also as a cover for that action. And, when he picked up one of the students who sat in the last row to slap and kick, he mentioned us as an example of how students should be in his class. He hit one of the students who were making noise through a string that he connected between the legs of the desk making an improvised string instrument. The teacher was baffled first with that sound, and which he though coming from outside. But, after few laughs of the students and the negligence of the student responsible for that sound the teacher, principle, was able to pin point it and caught the culprit. Punishment was hard and swift and the student was sent home and was asked to bring his dad with him the next day.
But, to have the principle as a sub teacher has its advantages also. He had to leave early so he could organize the exit of all the students from the school at the end of the day. The sweaty principle with the huge round face had to leave us unattended for at least 20 minutes. He had his point student, and a good candidate to the “Discipline Unit,” Yasser watching us and recording the names of those who cause trouble. I had the pen ready and the desk was clean at that moment and I was ready to be in the world of no troubles. Yasser was our friend from the elementary school days and never ratted us, so we started.
By the last bell of the school day we had them done: Samer did a tank and I drew a Mig jetfighter that I kept on thinking about its beauty till the next day. I started thinking about it the moment we left school to go back home. On the way back there were no trucks with tanks. I had to be home as soon as possible so I can buy bread before the bakery was to close. I was lucky that day, I did not have to be pushed and wait for hours to buy bread. I got my bread fast and went back home to my mother. All of my sisters were at school and my father was out also.
*
A couple of real Migs flew over the city in the afternoon. Probably they were on patrol. I did not see them but Samer did. He told me later. I heard them though. I was studying and trying to memorize a poem for my Arabic class the next day. I liked the poem and started thinking about the hero described by the poet. My daydream was cut short by the sound of the returning Migs again. I dreamt about being a pilot. It was not the first time. It was the highest on the day dream scale. I kept on thinking about the plane I had made. I went and looked for one of the magazines in my brother’s closet. He allowed me to look at his magazines, and when I found the right one, it contained beautiful pictures of jetfighters. I liked the one I made. It was not complete yet, I told myself. I forgot to draw a star on it.
From the tales of Abu Hazza' al-Talsamani
About the types of weapons
Samer kicked the large window shattering it into small pieces. We went through them and picked few good ones to smooth the surface of our wooden desk that we shared. The window was at our old elementary school where a ball or a rock had gone through it leaving a huge hole in the middle. It was thick glass and good for what we wanted to do. We had played soccer all afternoon in the school. We also threw the cork bombs we made over the last few days. They made an amazing sound. You could have heard the explosion from our house. We ran. Each of us threw one. Samer was faster because he was taller, but he ran funny. Bashar was nowhere to be found that day.
WE parted ways. Samer went to his home that he shared with his older brother, older sister as well as both of his parents. And I went home to where my two older sisters and well as my two younger ones lived with both of my parents. My brother, who was the eldest among us left a month ago to go to the medical college in the Capital?
My mother screamed at me and said I was dirty. She made me go and wash myself. My father had a book in his lap and was listening to the news on the radio and did not care to interfere. He was angry with me the day before, as well as all of last week, the weeks before that, and the few months before that also.
My father was smoking, of course. But to my luck, something was going on that day that made him not noticing my arrival. He was going through the radio stations fast. He knew the schedule of these stations and did not care to look at me when he heard my mother screaming at me. Then, while still smoking his cigarette, he rolled another one and placed it on the arm of the chair he was sitting on next to the radio in our living room.
Skinny Samer and I were together in the same 7th grade branch or Shu‘ba as it was called in Arabic. The school contained grades from the 7th to the 12th. There was 4 Shu‘bas of Seven graders with around 52 students in each one. Three of them studied English as the foreign language and the forth took French. All other subjects were taught in Arabic.
Samer and I were in the Second Branch, or al-Shu‘ba al-Thaniyah. The French had smaller number of students.
The name of our middle school was Usama Ibn Zaid, a Muslim who died fighting the Romans in the early days of Islam. It later became a high school, from which I later graduated. The city had two major high schools, with many middle schools. Usama Ibn Zaid used to be downtown, where al-Nidal Elementary School now. My brother went there before going to the nearby al-Maliki High School, one of the two main high schools in the city. The director of my school, a short man with jet black think hair, reminded me on my first day that my brother was a good student. As a matter of fact, my brother was a great student, one of the best to ever come through our city.
My brother graduated from al-Maliki the same year I graduated my elementary school. al-Maliki, by the way, was an army officer who was assassinated in the 1950’s during a soccer game in the Capital. The other big high school in the city was also named after a man died in 1956 during the British, Israeli and French attack on Egypt when he rammed his torpedo boat into a French warship, as they say.
It was common to believe among us boys that those who decided to take French as their second language were soft. My brother took French and was not soft at all. He was serious all the times. The French teacher of the seventh graders almost made Samer switch to French. We watched her everyday. Samer talked about her a lot. She was tall with wavy brown hair. Her posture was like those they write about in the poems I read in the books.
After leaving al-Ghafiqi Elementary School my parents enrolled me in Usama Ibn Zaid Secondary School. It was closer to our house than the ones downtown. Then, suddenly and after one month of schooling we were told that we were to be relocated to the new building next door that would be named the same but as a high school because it would offer tenth, eleventh and twelfth grades.
The new building was a U shaped- three story with small space for sport. WE did not understand things fully, because our biggest school was our elementary school, which had a full soccer field, a full basketball court, a full handball court, a volleyball court, a theater and a huge garden. We went from big to small and that did not make sense.
Transforming and then renaming was not new to our city. Take the sports teams for example, al-Sahel became Hutteen after adding al-Sharq to it and Tishreen is the old al-Hurriyah, al-Qadisiyah, al-Wathbah and al-‘Arabi. Our beautiful city was like that too. It was called many different names depending on the ruler and their likings.
**
They brought the desks from our old middle school to our “new” and “bigger” high school. They were not the same ones we had in mind. We wanted fresh new desks. Samer, Bashar and I were pissed for that because the tags from the year before were covering the face of the desk and we had to do the smoothing and cleaning before putting our throw ups. We already cleaned a lot from the desk we had for a month, but, we did not draw a thing on it.
‘Abd al-Rahman al-Ghafiqi Elementary School was on Samer’s block and about a block and a half from my house. It was the place we met to look for glass for our new project. We knew where to go and were able to find the broken window that we finished and collected few good pieces each.
Samer had came to the city to live after being born in Saudi Arabia where both his parents were teachers; his father was teaching history while his mother did Design. They were originally from a part of our land that was given by the French to the Turks. Most of his family left Iskandaron and came to live here among the large wave of refugees from that part of our land. Although Samer and his family were refugees of a sort, they were rich and affluent back in their home, so they were able to get comfortable living of a sort. My family had also came to the city from where I was born by the Capital. But, we were originally from the mountains sitting beautifully just east of the city. My brother and two older sisters were born in another city by the front and where my father was in the army military police before he retired and bought the house we live in now.
**
Our new school was an ugly one. It was a dark bleak grey building in the part of town called al-Qal‘a, which meant the Castle. The city is ancient, of course, and the layers of history are seen all over the place standing witness to what had happened. The high school rested on the eastern slope of the hill leading to the old Castle. Then at the top of that hill the city’s main water tank occupied the space of the northern side of that Castle that was destroyed over few violent attacks through out history. Nothing left of it but the name and small tiny part of its walls here and there. It is the highest point of the city that had witnessed lots of violent attacks throughout time. It also enjoyed great prosperous days too.
To the south of that ugly grey structure was an assortment of 14 mm anti aircraft guns to protect the army radar that occupied the southern tip of that hill. A cemetery spread on the southern slops too cheering up the atmosphere. Along our school there was another “new” school. It was the newly built College of Medicine of the newly established University in the city, along with the College of Civil Engineering. It occupied our school’s southern side. The sea was on the other side of the Castle. We used to go up to the Castle and watch the whole city from the top. The mountains occupied the whole eastern view of the city. In some places it intermingled with the city to create that lush place. The castles that were left from the older wars decorated that lovely mountain. One cannot see them quite well from the city itself. That did not bother us at. What we cared about that we could not see the sea from our four large windows in our classroom.
WE were on the second floor where you can see through our windows the huge yard in the back of the College where in the corner adjacent to our school’s wall there was the room where they kept the cadavers that were to be used for anatomy classes. My brother chose the medical school in the capital because it was better. He had moved out of our house just few months ago for the first time ever. He came home last weekend and stayed for two days. I asked him about the cadavers in that room. He brought with him some human bones that he bought for his anatomy classes. He also brought his books with him. He showed me things in his anatomy book. Every page of it was colored and not like the anatomy pictures in the big Arabic-English dictionary that we had in the house. The smaller dictionaries always carried those pictures, but not colored.
We did not smell the stench of death because the cadavers were kept as my brother said in a special liquid. Every now and then we would see the old janitor carrying one of them to be dissected. He would have them wrapped with blankets. He was a tall man with a little slouch who walked dragging his feet somehow.
Both of my older sisters went to al-Ba‘th Girls High School. It was the first one and the biggest now for girls in our city. Its name is the official name of the ruling party. It meant Renaissance, or Resurrection. The oldest was in her last year of High School and my other sister was in the Tenth grade. Al-Ba ‘th was between al-Qal ‘a and the sea. Both my sisters took the bus to school. The bus stop was on a corner from both al-Ghafiqi and our house. I walked with Samer to school everyday and always met by the bus stop because the other corner was where the huge dog that we scared laid waiting to attack us, or take a piece out of us. We noticed him many times just watching us.
**
Our new desks were still filled with all the tags and drawings done by the students who occupied the desk the year before. Some writings had the names of girls. We read them and always tried to figure out who did them. There was nothing like what we wanted to do. We needed first to take all of that writings and designs out and have the new wood pop from below the surface so we can draw our favorite tanks and jet fighters without any interruptions, at least till year's end. It would take us a week to finish the job by scrapping it with the pieces of the broken glass. Samer wanted to draw on his side over the others’ words, messages and tags because he does not want to clean his side a lot and preferred that look for its camouflaged effect.
**
I heard Samer whistling while I was still eating the sandwich my mother had made me. Together we were listening to her favorite morning radio show. I did not mind the show that much, but always preferred the ones my sister just older than I listened to all day when she could. My older sister did not care that much about the radio. She was reading most of the time. My two older sisters handled things differently. Each had her own vision of life and fought sometimes.
My eldest sister was just like my older brother; very serious. She was one of the best students in her high school all the time, while the sister just older than I was rebellious. She not only listened all day to radio shows, but also sent letters with her friends requesting songs. Soon her name was on the radio getting shout outs from people as far as Morocco. I laughed when I first heard her name on the radio on a show that is the Arabic version of a British request show. My mother was not amused with that at all. She told me father about it. My sister requested a dance disco song.
I picked my bag and made sure that I had the glass we collected the day before. We walked to school and to our surprise a long column of tanks loaded on huge trucks, and which were covered by large tarps, were heading out the seaport. They had to pass by our school on the way out of the city. We were able to distinguish the types of the tanks and its number. They were T 55’s and some soldier carriers. We were able to figure things out fast.
When we got to school, they lined us according to grade and made us sing the ruling party’s anthem then we saluted the President and entered the classes. Before, and when we were lined up, Samer and I stood toward the end of the class and the teachers watching us enter always kept an eye on those standing into the end. It was composed of those arriving late. We took our time watching the trucks. We counted many and were surprised to find most of them covered with tarps. We heard that at night they transport a lot of weapons too. Samer knew as much as I did about weapons. We knew a lot about airplanes. But, I knew more about World War II because of the two books I found. One of them was a story of a German Warship. The other was a list of all of the German gear in that war. Samer borrowed that from me to draw some of them. He was a better drawer than me, but I always came up with the stories.
Our first class was math as usual and the teacher made us show him our homework, which I had done with Samer. We worked on it the day before and right after lunch and right before our trip to our elementary school to play soccer and collect the glass. The math teacher lived in our neighborhood and one of his sons was in our class too. But, Rami, the math teacher’s son, did not know or cared about weapons like we did. He also played rarely with us in our old elementary school. He also had two brother one of them was really fat, but we liked him because he always wanted to be with us scheming.
That hour I managed to scrap a little of the surface. The teacher heard it while his back was turned to us and asked us to be quite. He was stern but not super tough. It was a tough hour on me though. But, I managed to listen to the teacher and write most of the important things and scrap few square inches. Samer did not scrap and instead wrote everything the teacher said in a very organized manner in his neat copybook. He was all ears because he loved mathematics and wanted to learn more, and wrote away. That hour was hard.
**
I always liked the touch of wood after you scrap is and remove a layer. I liked the smell of it too. And after the teacher gave us what we have to do at home for the next class and which was the first thing in the morning of the next day, and before our ‘Arabic teacher came in, Samer and I managed to scrap good ten minutes. The ‘Arabic teacher was a little late because he was having problems with the older students. He was old, but walked super fast.
**
Our ‘Arabic teacher busted into our boisterous room so quick that he almost tripped on the step of the platform occupying the space in front of our desks and underneath the blackboard that was framed into the wall facing us. On that platform there was a table and a chair right by the window giving the teacher a great view of the back yard and the action there. A map of the Arab World occupied the space behind the chair and in between where the blackboards ended and the window. The Arabic teacher had the thickest glasses among all of our teachers. Samer’s dad had big glasses too. He was a History teacher at our school, and taught the higher grades.
Our Arabic class was conjugation. We had a homework that I have done with the help of my older sister. My sister did not know anything about weapons like us boys, Samer and I. But she knew a lot about conjugation. She started reading lately the books that my brother had brought with him from the Capital. He told us about his new friends and brought us some tapes of songs, poetry and banned plays among other things. My father started tapping into that stack of books too.
I had to conjugate a line of poetry from a poem that I have to memorize on top of things. It was a long poem, but luckily, we had to memorize the first twenty lines from it. That fell, of course, into my father’s educational territory, since that he had to show that he was helping his kids in their schooling. He knew what we have to take every year, and asks all the times about something he could help with. He found it. It is memorization, something my father have been doing with my sisters and me for years. Math, Physics, Conjugation, Composition, and all the other hard subjects were the realms of my brother and older sister.
I conjugated the line, but I did not know more than the first eight lines of the poem. I knew who wrote it and know his life story by heart. My sister told me about the meter of the poem and many other technical things. My father got busy, to my delight, with something my mother made him do, and which he prolonged so he could go and pretend to have a shave or a haircut with his friend the barber where they would play backgammon for an hour or two.
I was lucky again that day and the teacher did not ask me to read the poem by heart. He chose another student, who started reading it while the teacher went through the class collecting the papers that included the conjugation assignment to take and grade. That meant that he had to walk from desk to desk. There were three lined of desks with two paths in between then. Each desk was occupied by two students except for some that had three, and by the time our teacher would go through them all, we would have a solid five to ten minutes of scrapping the desk.
After the Arabic class we had our first break, and all of the students in the school went to the yard. Before we left we made progress with our task. We were cut short and yelled at and send out of the class to the recess. Samer and I went and bought sandwiches along with Bashar my new friend and who lived right next to Samer. Being friends with Samer meant meeting Bashar all the times. We tried to go back into the class early but they did not let us. The doors from the yard into the building were closed. The School director and the principles were roaming that area along with some of the student body that runs what is called the “Discipline Unit.” They would not let us back in till due time.
We wanted to clean the rest of the desk. Samer told me that he would make his first drawing of a tank during our last hour, which was history. He wanted to draw the new tanks we saw them unloading off one of the ships in the seaport. We saw that when we were sent to the main post office down town to mail something. That post office was downtown and we had to take the bus. It was right next to the northern exit of the port and where one could see the ships on the docks and what they were unloading. My parents did not know that I left the neighborhood and took the bus.
By the end of the recess they had to line us again, but without singing the anthem of the party or saluting the President and shouting wishes for him to lead us forever. We have done all of that in the morning. At this time students had to be in classes fast. But, all students try to slow the process as possible. Samer and I would stay by the end of the line that had to be according to height. We should stand almost to the front since that we were among the shortest segment. The ones who stood in the back were the tallest ones some of which are the ones who failed the pass to the 8th grade and those kids that grow up fast at an early age. Ammar was one of them and he also was from our hood. He just lived with his family on the ground floor of the two-story building where Samer lived. Ammar was around six feet already with facial hair. He was sought after by the basketball teams in the city and always challenged us to play him in al-Ghafiqi our old elementary school. Samer, who always wanted to be taller, and who started having lots of hair on his forearms and legs, would ask me to play basketball with Ammar.
The third and the forth classes were hard and slow and we were not able to do lots of work except for the five minutes window between the classes. We had Physics and the teachers of both subjects intimidated Chemistry and us. The Physics teacher hits few students almost every class. He knew when to strike and whom to pick up for that and why. We were bellow his radar sitting in the first raw writing away what he was saying and cleaning our desks every time we could, like during the fights for example. He never suspected what we were doing because we had our homework on time all the times. He lived on our street closer to the bus stop and snitched on me few times to my parents.
The Chemistry teacher was the same, tough, rough and not too many things could pass him. He was mad most of the times and cursed at our parents many times. Again, we always had our homework ready for that monster that would boast about his beating to other students all the times. Our second recess was next and we tried to play with the other student with the basketball they were able to bring from the sports room.
The older students, and many of who play for the clubs of the city, played of course. We waited to be picked and when we were passed we decided to try and get back to our class but to no avail. They lined us up, where Samer and I were standing in the first line trying to get to our desks as soon as possible.
The last class was History because our lovely English teacher was not feeling well. We wanted to see her badly. Samer was telling me about how much he saw of her when he passed by the teachers’ room the other day and where she was wearing a skirt. Every student was in love with her I always thought. Samer and I had a crush on her of course. Samer told me that most of the teachers were in love with her. I believed all of that. But, both of us agree that the French teacher of the seventh grade was as sexy.
That day and to our dismay, instead of her in her pants and shirt we had our sweaty principle with the huge round face, and who subs as a history teacher, came in. He was tired and sat on the table and never moved and started by asking us to write notes of what he was saying. He took his feet out of his shoes and started his normal diatribes.
It was the last hour and the most boring one of the days. We were waiting to go home. The teacher was not into what he was talking about. He was telling us about some glorious past. We were sitting in front of him in the first row of desks looking straight at him and nodding to everything he said. He did not suspect that we had one hand with a pen while the other had the piece of glass scraping underneath the notebook that was serving also as a cover for that action. And, when he picked up one of the students who sat in the last row to slap and kick, he mentioned us as an example of how students should be in his class. He hit one of the students who were making noise through a string that he connected between the legs of the desk making an improvised string instrument. The teacher was baffled first with that sound, and which he though coming from outside. But, after few laughs of the students and the negligence of the student responsible for that sound the teacher, principle, was able to pin point it and caught the culprit. Punishment was hard and swift and the student was sent home and was asked to bring his dad with him the next day.
But, to have the principle as a sub teacher has its advantages also. He had to leave early so he could organize the exit of all the students from the school at the end of the day. The sweaty principle with the huge round face had to leave us unattended for at least 20 minutes. He had his point student, and a good candidate to the “Discipline Unit,” Yasser watching us and recording the names of those who cause trouble. I had the pen ready and the desk was clean at that moment and I was ready to be in the world of no troubles. Yasser was our friend from the elementary school days and never ratted us, so we started.
By the last bell of the school day we had them done: Samer did a tank and I drew a Mig jetfighter that I kept on thinking about its beauty till the next day. I started thinking about it the moment we left school to go back home. On the way back there were no trucks with tanks. I had to be home as soon as possible so I can buy bread before the bakery was to close. I was lucky that day, I did not have to be pushed and wait for hours to buy bread. I got my bread fast and went back home to my mother. All of my sisters were at school and my father was out also.
*
A couple of real Migs flew over the city in the afternoon. Probably they were on patrol. I did not see them but Samer did. He told me later. I heard them though. I was studying and trying to memorize a poem for my Arabic class the next day. I liked the poem and started thinking about the hero described by the poet. My daydream was cut short by the sound of the returning Migs again. I dreamt about being a pilot. It was not the first time. It was the highest on the day dream scale. I kept on thinking about the plane I had made. I went and looked for one of the magazines in my brother’s closet. He allowed me to look at his magazines, and when I found the right one, it contained beautiful pictures of jetfighters. I liked the one I made. It was not complete yet, I told myself. I forgot to draw a star on it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)