بتذكر إني… 3

بتذكر مما بتذكر لما كنت في الصف التاني، كانت وحدة من بنات صفي اسمها عائشة، كانت تضحك كتير وكنا نتخوت كتير (هاي وحدة تانية غير تاعت الصف التمهيدي وقصة باكيت الشيبس)0

أنا وعائشة كنا نحب مسلسل ليالي الحلمية، مش عارفة إذا كنا نحبه ولا كنا نعرفه لأنه أهالينا بتابعوه  وبنعرف شخصياته، بس بتذكر إنه مرة صابنا هوس لحظي بالشخصية الرئيسية في المسلسل: أحمد الحلواني

كانت حصة عربي وطلبت منا المس نكتب أمثلة على أسئلة، يعني مثلاً لماذا ذهبت إلى المدرسة وهيك. أنا وعائشة صرنا نتهبل ونكتب جمل كلها فيها الفاعل “أحمد الحلواني”… لماذا أكلت يا أحمد الحلواني؟ لماذا رسبت يا أحمد الحلواني؟ وهكذا دواليك

المهم، وحدة من بنات صفي لسبب قررت إنه سلوكنا مشين وبينتقص من جدية الحصة فراحت حكت للمعلمة “مس، علا وعائشة بكتبوا أحمد الحلواني”0

طبعاً المعلمة ن بهدلت صحتنا وقالتلنا نكتب أمثلة زي البشر.  رحنا كتبنا ورجعنا عند المس عشان تصلحلنا وانتهى الموضوع على خير والحمد لله. بعد ما صلحنا دفاترنا أخدتني عائشة على جنب وسألتني شو كتبت، قلتلها المثال اللي كتبته ومش متذكرته بس هو إشي زي لماذا فعلت هذا يا باسم، اسم من هالأسماء. أما عائشة فورجتني المثال اللي كتبته واللي بتذكر فحواه لحد اليوم، لو مش متذكريته حرفياً، قالتلي عائشة:

“أنا كتبت لماذا فعلت هذا يا أحمد؟… يعني أحمد الحلواني”

وكان هذا أول درس تعلمته في الجكر والتحايل على القانون والتمسك بما تريد، ناهيك عن إنه درس قيم في الرسائل المبطنة

الله يذكرك بالخير يا عائشة وين ما كنت تكوني

 

رأيت مريد

لم يخطر ببالي حين قرأت كتاب رأيت رام الله  قبل عامين والذي من خلاله تعرفت إلى مريد البرغوثي أنني وبعد أقل من عامين سألتقي بهذا الكاتب الذي  أصبح كتابه من الكتب المفضلة لدي والتي سأتحدث عنها كثيراً وأنصح الناس بقراءتها، ربما لأنني شعرت بأنه يخاطبني وهو يسرد أفكاره ومشاعره لدى عودته إلى وطنه، أو ربما لأنه عبر بشكل لم عن أمور أعرفها ولم أعرف أو لم أحاول أن أعبر عنها، الأمر الذي عرفت اليوم من الكاتب نفسه أنه المعيار الذي يقيس هو شخصياً الكتاب عليه، فالكاتب هو من يعبر عما يريد الناس قوله ولا يفعلون. 0

لذا، كان طبيعياً أن أتحمس لقراءة كتاب مريد البرغوثي الجديد “ولدت هناك، ولدت هنا”، خاصة حين أعلن نادي قراء “إنكتاب” عن استضافتهم للكاتب مناقشة الكتاب. جميل أن تسمع الصوت الذي كنت تشعر بأنه يحكي لك قصته وأنت تقلب صفحات الكتاب وتعيش تفاصيل وطنه وحياته وما يختلج في نفسه من مشاعر، لتصبح علاقتك به لا علاقة قارىء بكاتب فحسب بل تتخذ بعداً إنسانياً مختلفاً تُكسر فيه الثور النمطية عن الفوقية التي لدى بعض الكتاب والفجوة المصطنعة بينهم وبين “عامة الناس”0

مريد البرغوثي كان مذهلاً، لا أجد كلمة أفضل للتعبير عن ذلك. كان مذهلاً بتواضعه وتفاعله وحماسته، كما كان مذهلاً بأفكاره وطريقة رؤيته للأمور التي تدفعك إلى إعادة النظر في كيفية رؤيتك للأمور. مريد البرغوثي يقدم أفكاره بطريقة مفهومة وقريبة إلى النفس إلا أنها من العمق بشكل جعلني أكون فوبيا ضد السطحية المقنعة لكثير من الأفكار والأشياء، كتلك التي تلقمها لنا وسائل الإعلام بالملعقة

لقاؤنا بمريد البرغوثي كان مثمراً ومثقفاً ومحفزاً وولد طاقة إيجابية بدت واضحة على وجوه الجميع. في نهاية اللقاء الذي استمر حوالي 3 ساعات وقع لنا نسخنا من الكتاب، وطلبت منه أن يكتب لي شيئاً من أقواله يمكن أن يكون حافزاً لي كلما قرأته، وهذا ما كتب

لم أنه الكتاب بعد، ويسرني أنني لم أفعل ذبلك قبل اللقاء، فالآن أصبح لقراءته طعم آخر، وصوت آخر

The Man Who Killed the Cricket – 5

He reached for the dust with trembling fingers and swiped it over as if he was caressing the waves on the shore. He lifted his hand to the level of his eyes and the dust would sprinkle down like a thread of glittery bits of smashed crystal.And then for some reason, he began to cry.

He could swear he has never seen that woman in his life, there was no questioning that, but he also knew she looked eerily familiar. And when she turned into dust, he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest and burnt to ashes. But all that didn’t really matter because he was yet to answer the big question: Where am I and how did I get here?

He gathered the dust and tried to fill his pockets with it, then he headed to a big wooden door at the end of the room. He turned the knob then hesitated for a moment before pulling it open. How does he know what’s behind that door? What if there was nothing but a deep, dark abyss there? He hates darkness, and he’s severely acrophobic. He looked arounit was the only way out and there were no windows, no waysee what’s waiting for you outside. It was either to stand there for what seemed like forever, or to muster some courage and just pull the door open.

He wasn’t a courageous man, but he went with the obvious choice, for after the things he’d seen so far he thought he was ready for anything.

 

Soon enough he would learn that he was sadly mistaken.

 

He opened the door in a swift move, like ripping away a bandage. A huge gush of wind pushed him back and it was hard to open his eyes. A moment later the wind stopped, and he would finally open his eyes, only to wish he didn’t.

 

To be continued, or not

Previous episodes

The Man Who Killed the Cricket – 4

The Man Who Killed the Cricket – 3

The Man Who Killed the Cricket – 2

The Man Who Killed the Cricket – 1

Downtown Thoughts

It started with a friend craving ka’ak and ended with a fairly long stroll in downtown Amman. Actually, it was Thursday, the weather was nice, we brought the Ka’a, the fried and the cheese and we only needed a place sit and eat. Somehow, Al-saha Al-Hashmiyyeh downtown sounded like a perfect choice, and it was. There were renovations going on so we sat by the ruins near the Roman Amphitheater, which were beautifully lit with warm lights and I realized for the first time how beautiful Amman’s Roman Amphitheater is! I mean, you don’t realize it until you see other amphitheaters which are smaller and less ornate.

 

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After one delicious meal, which you should try and which I’ve talked about before, we went for a walk, passing  by the numerous flights of stairs, a signature of Amman’s,the cheap looking motels which I suggested we check out but the others told me it was a bad idea since it would be suspicious, wouldn’t look so good! We tried sugar cane juice, which none of us liked but it’s something you have to try. We went the famous shop for pirated DVDs where copyrights and intellectual property can bite the dust. We also passed by Abu Ali book stand where I bought Muahmmad’s Al-Maghout’s book سأخون وطني (I’ll betray my homeland) which I’ve been looking for. Everything around looked original, unique and refreshing in a way, and I thought Downtown was the best hangout on a weekend night, away from the buzz of cafes and the annoying fumes of cigarettes and argeeleh. Yet, there are some things you can’t ignore.

Walking down the street, we would see several people lying down, covered up with blankets or whatever, and asleep. Those people were actually sleeping on the street, and they looked so comfortable with it, like it was their home! They were old people which makes you wonder how did they get  here and whether they have anyone, family children, just anyone! And then you can’t help but wonder: Where’s the Ministry of Social Affairs from all of thi? How hard is it to find a shelter, not a home but a mere shelter, for these people?

You know, many of us miss the winter because we think of it in terms of a warm bed with a good book and the sound of rain drops tapping on the window, but have we ever thought what happens to those who don’t have those luxuries? I don’t mean to sound preachy, but seeing people actually sleeping on the street like it’s nothing out of the ordinary isn’t something I see everyday and it had to stir some incoherent thoughts…

I don’t know what to do or how to help, so if you have any ideas…

 

 

 

تعليقاً على المسخرة

اليوم الصبح وأنا رايحة على الشغل سمعت خبر بقول: الحكم على بقال اعتدى جنسياً على طفلة في التاسعة من عمرها 5 مرات بالسجن عامين ونصف. طبعاً هادا خبر مش نكتة ولا تاغ لاين لمسرحية هزلية أو كوميديا سوداء…هادا بكل تناقضاته خبر صحيح وممكن تقرؤوه هون

طبعاً رد فعلي الأولي كان إنه شو هالمسخرة! بالمرة أعطوه حصانة سياسية… بس قلت خليني أقرأ الخبر وأشوف الحيثيات اللي أدت لهيك حكم… بما إني أكيد مش رح أكون افهم بالقانون أكتر من القاضي اليي أصدر الحكم، وكما هو متوقع لا جديد تحت الشمس

وخليني أحاول ألخص باختصار النقاط الرئيسية واللي بتحط المنطق في الأرض وبتدعس عليه كمان

1- بقولك الحكم على الجاني بعامين ونصف لأن أفعاله تطال العفة، طيب البنت اللي عمرها 9 سنين مش المفروض ينحكى بعفتها أصلاً لأنها طفلة، طفلة بريئة، العفة مصطلح بنستخدمه لما نحكي عن الكبار اللي ممكن يكونوا بعفة أو بلا عفة، أما طفلة في هالعمر المفروض يكون التركيز على الأذى النفسي والجسدي اللي وقع عليها، أهلاً عفة! ناهيك عن إنه المفروض نفصل بين العفة والشرف والاعتداء الجنسي ونبدأ نفهم إنه الاغتصاب لا ينتقص من شرف الضحية أو عفتها 0

2- بقولك الاعتداء لم يكن فيه تهديد أو عنف… وهون بنرجع لنفس النقطة، البنت عمرها 9 سنين يعني عنف مش عنف تهديد مش تهديد هاي جريمة بكل المقاييس وإن لم يكن فيها عنف ففيها أبشع أنواع الاستغلال

3- الزلمة اعتدى على البنت مش مرة أو مرتين، خمس مرات! يعني لو قسمنا المحكومية على عدد مرات الاعتداء بطلع لكل مرة 6 أشهر… حلوين! بس يا ترى لو كانت الطفلة بنت شخصية مهمة في البلد أو بنته للقاضي كان رضي بهيك حكم مخزي؟

وبعدين بقولك في ناشطين مناهضين لعقوبة الإعدام… طيب والأشكال اللي بدها إعدام يقص رقبتها شو نعمل فيها؟

The Tidings of Tunis

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It’s amazing how a country you’ve never been to and people you’ve known for a very short period of time would leave such a footprint in your life. I don’t know if that’s a good intro for a post about the Third Arab Bloggers Conference in Tunis, which took place between 3-6 October 2011, but honestly I couldn’t find it in my heart to start any way else. There was a reason why the conference was held in Tunisia, we all know it, but after being there I can say I felt it too, and I’m pretty sure no one can talk about the conference without talking a whole lot about Tunisia, especially those of us who visited it for the first time.

I’m not going to talk about the conference and workshops session by session because I believe the bloggers and Tweeps had it covered frame by frame so it would be redundant. This is a personal blog, redundancy is only welcome in the form of rants and personal drama… and an occasional #reformJo post. So, let me talk about it as a personal experience. I know that could be boring to you to read but it’s fun for me to write!

So, coming to Tunis I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t really know anyone from the people participating in the conference and it was my first Arab bloggers conference. What will I come out with? Will I get along with the others? I didn’t really know, but I tried to be optimistic and play it by ear. The first day of the conference when I went down to the lobby where everyone was gathered to take the bus to the conference venue, after a long night of sleep and a scare I choose not to elaborate on here.  I looked around and for some reason I walked up to a group of people standing together in a circle. I introduced myself and they turned out to be Egyptian bloggers, and I must say that meeting those people made me want to visit Egypt more than ever and showed me how beautiful the Egyptian people are, that’s the word actually: beautiful people from the inside out. For the next three days I would join them in discovering  some parts of the city, and I would hear their stories about the Egyptian revolution, their jokes that I understand and the ones I don’t, but I would laugh or smile anyway because the spirit they show and the vibes they send forth are just enough to make your day. Of course going around Tunis, using taxis, buses and even the train wasn’t any less important that the conference itself, and the things we learned there on the street  we may not have learned sitting around indoors or huddled over our laptops and smart phones.

It was also great to meet all the other Arab bloggers and to hear from them about their respective countries. Some talks showed hope in a better future for the Arab countries after the revolutions, while others cast a pall over the hall, especially when the question is posed: Where do we go from here? The technical side was very present to say the least as there were several sessions on privacy and how to protect yourself against Big Brother’s surveillance techniques. There was a number of non-Arab participants which was a bit strange since it’s an Arab bloggers conference but they have quite valuable inputs and some of them spoke Arabic. The good thing though is that for the most part the language used in the workshops was Arabic (when the speaker is an Arab) to be true to the name and purpose of the conference.

It was particularly refreshing to meet the bloggers who could make it from Palestine. There was Irene and Saed, but the other 11 Palestinian bloggers weren’t granted the visa by the Tunisian embassy, there for their names and pictures were printed out and hung on the first two rows of chairs in the meeting room as a tribute to them and a sign of protest to the shameful act of denying them entry to Tunisia. There was also another Palestinian I was thankful to meet and become friends with, a Palestinian Tunisian actually called Nawel. Nawel and Nesma from Egypt turned out to be more like soul sisters to me actually, and I can’t be thankful enough that I have gotten to know them.

Since the meeting started every day at around 10 and ended at around 5 or 6, it was necessary to try and keep your sleeping hours to a minimum if you wanted to see as much as possible of Tunis. I would get up as early as 6:30 am and meet the aforementioned group of Egyptian bloggers and then we’d head out to a different area each day. We managed to do that twice: one morning was spent in Sidi Bou Said, a city you can’t help but fall in love with, and another morning was spent touring the ruins of Carthage as well as getting up-close and personal to the sea for a brief moment in time. We would also go out in the evening, and one very memorable trip was to downtown Tunis, which ended up with a very amusing train ride. Actually we made a point of taking the train that we had to walk for almost half an hour to get to the station!

The night before I left Tunis was a night of utter ambivalence. I wanted to go back home but my heart was ripped by the idea of leaving Tunis. How did that happen so quickly? How could I form such a mystic emotional bond with a city in 5 days? I’ve been to other places before but I never felt like I was leaving a piece of my heart there like I felt when I left Tunis. In fact, I never missed any place I’ve been to so quickly like I missed Tunis.

I left Tunis on the 7th of October with so many memories and stories to take home, having made invaluable friendships, learned a lot and experienced even more. It was a great pleasure to be a part of the Arab Bloggers Conference that was coordinated with great efforts from Heinrich Boll organization, Nawaa.org and Global Voices Online. The Arab World is changing indeed, and while some people may be a bit gloomy about the uncertain future of the region, seeing all those people who were in the conference coming together despite all their differences and diverse backgrounds, that should give you some hope, no matter how uncertain the future may be.