Minutes ago I was trying to write about something that happened to me two or three weeks ago, after I finished writing a sentence or so I deleted the file convinced that I'm not in the mood for writing or posting on my blog which technically is dead, although I still post on it every once in a while.

 Now after ten minutes of deleting that file, I'm back writing again, and the reason behind is something I will mention later in this post.

 So this is what I was writing about before I deleted the file, while I was attending a workshop two weeks ago, and during the break we used to take every two hours I happened to talk to a Jordanian professor in one of our famous Jordanian universities, we talked about the workshop when he told me that he is always busy, and that he doesn’t have time to do many things in his life, at that moment I thought that was not his problem only, and that almost everyone has the same problem, we are all in a hurry, and we all have less time than what we need.

 

I wanted to tell him something when I stopped because I felt it’s a little bit personal and I still don't know him well to reveal something personal to someone I don’t know, but I couldn't hold myself especially that I was convinced that it didn't hurt if anyone knows about it, as I'm convinced of what I do.

 

So I told him that I'm a happy person, "what? Are you?" he asked, implying what I was telling him has nothing to do with what he was trying to tell me about, in other words being busy has nothing to do with being happy, because they don't have any relation, from outside they are both different.

 

I asked him "do you have at least one hour for yourself to be able to contemplate or meditate or enjoy life?" he was silent, and I sounded weird, and a silly smile appeared on his face, I told him that I began waking up early in the morning at 5 every day, "but why do you do that?" he asked, I told him that I pray, then I shave, after that I prepare a breakfast, I told him that I take care of every detail, I listen to the boiling water to make tea, I watch the fire of the oven, I feel the hot loaf of bread I heat, then I sit down to eat my breakfast, and enjoy the sun rising, and the singing of birds, "birds?" he mockingly asked, with the same silly smile on his face, "yes, birds" I naively answered, "why, where do you live?" he asked again, I told him I live in Amman, he laughed, he wanted to tell me that there are no birds in Amman.

 

 I stopped there, because I realized how silly he was, I wanted to tell him that even if he lives in a jungle full of different kinds of birds he wouldn't listen to them, I wanted to tell him that we can even enjoy the singing of the domestic sparrow which has neither colored feather nor beautiful singing, if we want to enjoy it, I wanted to tell him that I'm happy in preparing my simple breakfast, because I wanted to enjoy it, when I stopped making that mechanically, I wanted to tell him that I was stupid like him before I realized that I have to enjoy blessings God blessed me with.

 

 We have to slow down and enjoy the details, we have to live the moment sometimes, we have to resist running hurriedly in all our lives, I tried it and it works.

 

Ok, now I will tell you why I came back to rewrite this post when I decided I wasn't in the mood, I wanted to check my email, when I saw a comment from someone I met in JP's last meet-up, I never talked to her before, we talked about many things, she was very nice and encouraged me to write about my thoughts, and because I'm used to people forgetting about things, I thought that was the end, but I got surprised today with her comment that she dropped by to make sure I'm ok, and to encourage me to continue posting, that made my day, so I decided to rewrite the post I deleted before, thank you kinzi, I think you are one of the beautiful birds we have in Jordan.

Have you ever seen a firefly? They are really amazing little creatures, which illuminate summer nights, you see them clearly when the moon is absent from the clear summer sky, the first time I saw them I thought I was hallucinating, I tried to touch one of them, when it flew, then I realized that its something alive, then I thought its something from heaven, silly, huh? Well, I don't think so, because I'm a dreamy person, and I will never give up that beautiful habit.

A Japanese movie got my attention The Grave of the Fireflies, so I decided to watch it, when I finished watching it I discovered that my mother was angry at me, when I asked her what the reason was, she said that she was calling for me to do something, while I never heard her calling, she said I was deaf, of course I'm not, what happened is I was completely consumed in watching that great movie.

It's about a boy and his little daughter who live during the World War II, a very simple story of the human sufferings during war time, but at the same time rich in details, and those details are in my opinion what make the movie worth watching, though if you are not in a good mood, I don't recommend watching it, because its a little bit kind of a movie which makes you sad, because when you see this movie you will be up to many scenes of how people might live during a war time.

This movie for those that a pro-war again any other nation, will make them rethink the idea, the more I know the more I feel stupid, the more I know the more I thank God that I always keep the door open to learn new things, whether that was from a movie, a talk or reading a good book.

Please for give me for the scattered ideas of this post.

We all know that novels and stories have time and place elements, which mean that events happen in a certain place and time, although sometimes the author prefers not to mention the name of known place or specific time.

Sometimes a certain place become famous after an artist or writer includes that place in his/her art whether it’s a painting or a novel, and we all have experienced this many times, in novels we read or paintings we saw, Nagib/Najib Mahvouze is a famous example, making famous many places in Cairo, Egypt.

I never felt the need to read something that takes place in Amman or Jordan, until I happened to read a novel titled Pillars of Salt by Fadia Faqir, actually I read that novel twice, and its one of few on my recommended readings list, it takes place in Amman and Fohais' (Mental hospital), a suburb of great Amman, you will find many mentions of many known places like Al-Mohajereen (refugees camp), Jabal Al-Qal3ah (the Castle Mountain), Saqf Al-Sail, and many other places.

What makes me write about this is that I was very happy when I was reading that novel, because I felt I read something of a place I belong to, a place where I was brought up in, a place I love to live in, let alone that the novel was telling the story of tortured women in our country/region which is dominated by men, and where this community is hypocrite in away or another, and always on the side of men, even when they are bad and offensive, where men can do what women can't, and justify that by the known saying "men can do whatever they do, nothing shames them".

I'm not talking here about women and men, as much I want to talk about the novel, the creativity of its Jordanian writer Fadia Faqir, and how she succeeded to tell the story of women, who played a big role in the struggle against the conquerors of our region, although they suffered much from her father, son, and husband, where sometimes they were crueler than the conqueror.

Thank you Fadia for this master piece which made me learn more about us, self, and how we think.

Please for those who think that I'm against men or women, this post isn't about that, and I'm not generalizing, there are always good men, and good women, and here I'm just telling the story of a story I once read.

I recommend reading this story for anyone who likes or needs to belong to this country (Jordan), and feel the history, even if its not always bright, knowing history contributes to a brighter future, and I also advise you to go and visit some places that is mentioned in the novels, I tried it many times, it gave a feeling I never had before.

Dear bloggers, friends, all,

I would like to tell that I will leave Jordan to Australia next week 25th /7/2006, and I really don't know if I will be able to post again, as i'm going there, without much expectations, its like i'm going to the unknown.

wish me luck, I really need your prayers, I will miss you, thanks for all of you who visited my blog, or wrote me a comment, or one day helped me to find the right direction.

Hope i wll be able to write again, but I think i will be busy searching for a job, to provide for my basic needs.

I love you all,

Proactivity Group is your home, and hope it will always be.

Eyad

A poem in Arabic which I wrote last Thursday, and like to share with you.


أعْجبتِ الوْردة ُ بالعصفورْ
طـَربتْ جَذلا ً وَ تمايَلَ ساقاها للألحانْ
أعجَبَها سِحرُ غِناهْ

حمراءُ كلوْن ِالخَجَل ِالظاهِر في الوجْنة
الوردةُ كانتْ في مقتبل العُمرْ
مازالتْ كالطفلةِ تلهوْ
لا تعرفُ شيئا عنْ كلماتِ الحبْ
لم تسمعْ قبلا ًبالغزل ِ ولا بكلام الإعجابْ
تعرفُ أنّ الدُنيا حُلوة ْ
ما معنى الحزنْ؟
هيَ لا تعرفْ
هيَ تعرفُ أنّ الحُبّ رَقيقٌ مِثلَ المطر الهاطِلْ
فوقَ وُريْقات الأشجارْ
أو نِسْماتِ مساء ناعسْ

قالتْ للعُصفور الأصفرِ ما أحلاكْ
هَلْ تسْمعُني شيئا منْ بوح ِهَواكْ؟
يبعثُ للبهجة،
أو يجعلني أعلنُ أنّي مُغرًَمةٌ كملاكْ

بدأ العُصفورُ يغنّي
و يُرفرفُ من شدة فرحتِهِ
أعْجَبهُ لونُ الوردةِ و الأوراقْ
كانَ يُحدّقُ في البتلاتْ
و يزيدُ غناهُ جمالا ً
الوردة ُ ترقصُ كالطفلة ْ
ببرائتِها المعهودة ْ


كان َ يحدّقُ فيها
أعجَبَها
الوردة ُ قالتْ ما أحلاكْ
لم تعرفْ أحداً مِنْ قبلهْ
الوردة ُ أعجبَها سِحرُ غِناهْ
قالتْ إحملني حيثُ تطيرْ؟
إنّي لا أقدرُ أنْ أصبرْ
غنّي لي أكثرْ
فأنا مُفعمة ٌ بالحيوية ْ
أسمعني أكثرَ أسمعني

غرّدَ أكثرَ من كل عصافير الدنيا
كان يُحدّقُ فيها اكثرْ
هيَ لمْ تلحظ ْ
إقتربَ يحاولُ أنْ
هيَ لمْ تلحظ ْ
ظنتْ أنّ العُصفورَ يحاولُ أن يَشتمّ رحيقَ هَواها
لكنْ كانت فرصتهُ أن ينقضّ عليها
طلباً للدودةِ فوق الأغصانْ
أنقضّ سَريعاً
أكلَ الدودة ْ
وَ طارَ بَعيداً
لكنّ جَناحاهُ إلتطمَتْ بالوردةْ

فتناثرَ في الكونِ صَداها
بَتلاتُ الوردةِ في كلّ مكانْ
آهاتُ الوردةِ مازالتْ تترددّ في جَنبَاتِ الغابة ْ
كانت آخرُ كلماتِ الوردةِ
أنّي صدّقتُ كلام الغزَلَ المعسولْ
لكنّي لمْ أعرفْ أنّ وراءَ كلام ِالعُصفورِ دهاءً

أمّا العصفورُ فما زالَ يّغني في الغابةِ كلّ صَباحْ

 

 

Sitting there in the shadows, trembling hands, shaking voice, she was remembering when he was her best friend, couldn’t believe what they told her, they were brought up together, she was the moon, he was the sun, they played together bayt byoot or 3aroos o 3arees (a game where little kids imitate being a bride and a groom then as married couples), out there on the mountains of Jabal Al 7adeed (suburbs of Amman) that was exactly in the early 1980s, he wanted to give her all little wild flowers, but still he doesn’t remember its names, hand in hand they walked, in front of their family eyes, their parents thought they were still kids.

 

Her favorite flower was Hannoun or shaka'ek al-No'man (Anemones), he always told her he sees them on her cheeks, she blushed to make a bloody red Hannoun, they used both to build there house on the mountain using stones, lines of stones to form rooms, kitchen, and bath room, they built it differently every time they played their favorite game, once he was sitting in one of those imaginable rooms, built from lines of stones, no ceiling at all, they could see the blue sky, he was holding her hand, told her, and here we can play with our children, Mais  will be our daughter, and Qais will be our son, she laughed, and nodded, she looked in his eyes, there was something magical, she liked his talking.

 

Hannoun only lives during spring, it always declared the beginning of happiness to both of them, they were always seen together, and they grew together, but when they grew up, they weren’t allowed to play together, her mother told her to be careful, and his father told him that he was grown up and should stop playing like kids, but he wanted to play with her, parents never knew what love meant to both of them, so they was looking at each other while they were going to school, every day at 7:00 am, she was always there before him, waiting for him, they walked together to school, their parents never knew, they were like in a dream, a beautiful one, and they didn’t want to wake up from it.

 

One day, after he arrived home, his father was waiting for him to tell him that they were to go abroad, his father go a job in one of the oil gulf states, with a excellent salary, he told his father to stop, his father told him that he should be happy, because he would go to a better school, and make new friends, he was thinking of her.

 

He talked to her, and told her that he couldn’t do anything, and she should wait for him, and that he would come back and would ask for her hand when he grows up, she believed him, and they promised each other they would love each other for ever, and they were in tears, farewell was very hard, there was no Hannoun.

 

Yesterday, she knew that he was to get married, and she was invited to his wedding party, she sobbed, her tears never stopped, she went to see Hannoun, she hugged them, and remembered the promise, she wanted to kill herself, but before she did, she saw a bending weak Hannoun flower trying to stand up from under on big rock, she smiled, then she walked away.