This morning!

This Morning

One morning.. one very early morning.. I woke up, very demotivated to get off bed. “I hate early classes. Why on earth have I accepted this course?! I promised myself not to work early anymore!!” I went through my daily routine of getting ready, got into my car, and started the usual daily journey. The bitter cold is awful. I can’t even open the window for some fresh air. I decided not to take off my coat, I don’t feel comfortable driving with heavy clothes, but what can I do?! I put on sun-glasses to protect my eyes from the fainting sun rays.

Along the journey, I kept thinking about the new classroom activities that I’ll conduct during that day. Something that makes me so eager to create new ideas is the excitement and liveliness that shine from my students’ eyes while they are actively doing the tasks. They act, present, crack jokes, tell stories and angrily argue in English language; a miracle that is born and re-born everyday in class.

I kept thinking about the activities. I need something new, something exciting, something to enflame their creativity. I want them to step in a new area of linguistic risk-taking. I want a leap in their level today. I want something new. My God the currently taught unit is rich but I need new ideas. They are used to this, if I don’t step in class with new ideas I’ll have to bear this awful look of disappointment that shows up on their faces when I say it’s time to end the session.

I kept thinking and thinking. Yes, yes I got it. ‘In pairs, prepare a CV for one of you and the other should introduce and present his/her friend to the rest of the class (business people who might be interested in hiring your friend). I want new ideas guys.. new professions, strange ones, unique ones. Be creative, be innovative, no MDs, no engineers.’

‘My God! it’s getting hotter and hotter in here!’ Suddenly, I woke up from my thoughts to find my coat taken off, the car window open and my veil flying out of it, the warm rays of the sun reddening my cheeks and filling my bare eyes with light. I heard Dalida saying out loud “Paroles paroles paroles”. I smiled and thought ‘why is this melody – and the lyrics as well – gaining new meanings?! I mean, why do I have a new feeling about this song? This melody! This morning! This early morning!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSDM1fATOeY&mode=related&search

http://www.answers.com/topic/paroles-paroles

لون الشقاء

لون الشقاء
قضيت أسبوع في الساحل الشمالي. ليس في مارينا أو احدي القرى الساحلية المعروفة، ولكن في فندق سياحي في خليج

غزالة يسمي Charm life. المكان جميل بكل المقاييس، فندق خمس نجوم، خدمة ممتازة، مباني رائعة، و طبيعة ساحرة.. كل شيء جميل جميل. المكان ذكرني كثيرا بشرم الشيخ، ذلك لجماله و أناقته و جودة الخدمة فيه، إلي جانب انتشار السائحين الإيطاليين بالمكان حيث لم يكن هناك مصريين غير عائلتي و مجموعة أخرى من العائلات المصرية تعد علي أصابع اليد الواحدة. روعة المكان تنسي الإنسان كل مشاكله و مشاكل الحياة و كل ما يجري من واقع مر ٍ في كل بقعة من بقاع الأرض.. و لكن!!
لفت نظري جدا عالم المصريين العاملين في المكان. هؤلاء ليسوا الخدم غير المؤهلين الذين نصطدم بهم في كل مكان للنزهة في قاهرتنا الحبيبة، هؤلاء مجموعة تتحدث الإيطالية بطلاقة و واضح عليهم حسن التدريب و الخبرة. يتعاملون مع الأجانب بذوق واضح و لكن بتحفظ شديد في نفس الوقت. جميل إذن ما تراه أنت الآن، عامل مصري كفؤ، سعيد بالعمل مع "الخواجات" (يعني آخر حاجة يحب يشفها هي شوية مصريين هربانين من مارينا و جايين هنا بقي يقرفونا!) لكن انظر ما حدث حولي

ذات مرة كنت في البوفيه المفتوح واقفة أمام الشيف يقطع لي بتركيز شديد و بشكل ألي قطعة لحم، بعد أن وضعها في طبقي كنت علي وشك أن أقول له "thank you" كالمعتاد و لكن لم أري وجاهة في ذلك. هو مصري و أنا كذلك، و في بلادنا العامل الذي يصنع لك شيء بيديه تشكره قائلا "شكراً، تسلم أيديك" فلما "thank you" إذن؟ بمجرد أن سمع "تسلم إيديك" رفع وجهه و لمعت عيونه السوداء و أشرق وجهه المصري الأسمر بابتسامة عريضة فيها دفء واضح و قال "العفو يا ست الكل، بالهنا و الشفا.. أجبلك كمان؟

كل ما فعلته هو أنني قلت لهذا العامل بطريقة غير مباشرة: (خواجات إيه ؟ و إحنا مالنا و مالهم يا عم ؟ أنا بشكرك أنت .) فأشرق الوجه المصري البديع يرد (أنتي أحسن عندي منهم

ما حدث ليس صدفة. هذه واقعة متكررة. مرة أخرى كنت في ممر صغير وقابلت أحد العاملين آتي في وجهي و كنت قد رأيته من قبل

كثيرا في المكان. رفعت عيني و ابتسمت قائلة "سلامو عليكو" فابتسم و قال في أدب و لكن بحماس واضح: "والله حضرتك أللي منورلنا المكان دا كله يا دكتورة. أهلا بيكي." (أصله كان شاف في إيدي كتاب قبل كده أبقى أكيد دكتورة

مرة أخرى كنت ألعب مع ابنة أختي ذات العام الواحد، فأوقعت "التيتينا" من يدها و الجرسون يضع لنا ما طلبنا، بشكل ألي جداً رفعها من الأرض فشكرته و ابتسمت لها قائلة "قوليله bye" فضحكت له و "بعتتلوا بوسة في الهوا". ابتسم في شجن و قال: "ربنا يخليهالك. أنا كمان عندي ابن في إسكندرية. زمانه بقى عنده تلات شهور دلوقتي." فهمت بعدها من كلامه أن الطفل ولد و هو هنا يعمل في "الهاي سيزون" حيث لا يمكن أن ينزل إجازة ليرى مولوده

و مواقف أخرى عديدة من نفس النوع، كلها تري في أولها الماكينات المصرية السمراء تعمل باجتهاد و هي مطأطئة الرؤوس

ثم عندما تستشعر في قلبك الدفء و البساطة، تتفجر ينابيع البُعد الإنساني فيهم و يجري الدم في عروقهم و يرفعون وجوههم و قد اكتسب سمارها لوناً وردياً كان قد اختفي من إرهاق ساعات العمل الطويلة و حل محلها لون الشقاء

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العمل المصاحب للمقال من اعمال النحات المصري محمد رزق, باسم "سزييف المصري

The Lonely Pursue

Tribute to the soul of my grandfather. I never stop missing you.

The Lonely Pursue

I search for you in their eyes
I search for you,
What to do?!!
They are not you.
& The dawn is crying with due
The flower is losing her hue
& Departure time is due..
Without you..
A lifetime of pursue.
In their hearts
In their laughs..
But you’re not among them
You’re not there
You’re not even near
*******************
The more they flirt around
The more I feel lonely
& you’re not there
You’re not anywhere
& they do scare
The more people are around
The farther your breaths become
& the lonelier I become

**************************

The Holly Land; Heaven

I have always felt that a short yet successful life filled with achievements is in fact a perfect life. Whenever, people come to mention a famous person who was very successful yet died young, they come to talk about that regretfully, yet I’ve never seen it that way. I think it is as if all the moments of failure & depression were compressed to take a very limited space of your lifetime & most of your lifetime was spent in achieving successes. We could take the lives of some artists & authors as a good example of a life intensely & successfully, yet shortly, lived. I have no pessimistic or suicidal tendencies –thank God- but I have never regarded dying young after a successful life a bad thing.!!!!

The Holly Land; Heaven

I came to take your hand
Come see the holy land
Gardens, Gardens, Gardens
No heat, on thirst, no sand

I came crossing time
Not to kill your prime
But to show you how..
To die & yet be fine

The holy land known as Heaven
To you, young lady, God has given
Dying young is not a curse
Dying young.. to live in Heaven

الحديقة و الأيام

الحديقة و الأيام

و تركتني الأيام
و رَحَلَتَ مع الأيام
و ظللت وحدي بلا أيام
تركتني أيام الماضي.. و مضت
و تركتني أيام الحاضر.. و ذابت
و تركتني أيام المستقبل

و سافرت إلى المستقبل
كل الأيام تركتني

و أنا الآن أجد نفسي
وحيدة.. في حديقة
فيها زهور و أشجار و ألوان
لكن ليست فيها أيام
و أنا في وسط الحديقة الكبيرة.. صغيرة
و ليس معي أيام
ماذا أفعل بحديقة غابت عنها الأيام؟

و في غياب الأيام.. كل الأيام

الماضي و الحاضر و الأحلام
تتوقف الأرض عن الدوران

The Gem

* Please have mercy not to preach me about hope & despair; sometimes things are not to be seen from that perspective. Sometimes we need to give space & consideration for human weakness.

The Gem

Once upon a time there was a gem that was born in a shell & has lived there ever since it was born. Then one day it heard a very nice sound outside, so it decided to go out & see what is going on out there. The gem got out of the shell; it saw a huge bird with colorful feathers singing a very touching melody. The bird noticed the little gem standing beside it, & thinking it was a grain the bird hit the gem with its beak & was about to eat it. The scared little gem rushed quickly back to its shell deciding not to go out again ever from its shell.
Now the years have passed, the gem has been living inside its shell & got used to its life that way. Until one day it heard another nice melody out there. This new melody reminded it of the old experience & it realized some thing about itself that it didn’t know before; this gem is not the type whose wounds heal. They just cover themselves or hide in a closed box until, for some reason, are uncovered again & they start aching like before. It realized also that by the passage of time, the shell has become harder from the outside with the gem inside, & the harder the shell becomes the weaker the gem becomes.
The poor gem didn’t know what to do. Would it go out & risk its life again, or would it just ignore this new melody as it sounds exactly like the one before. “Maybe it’s a kind bird, maybe it’s a bad bird... What to do? What to do?” the poor confused gem kept thinking. With bleeding wounds of the past, present fears & an aching heart with all these burdens carried on its weak shoulders, the little gem kept moving in circles around its shell thinking & thinking & thinking. “Maybe I’m too weak, maybe I shouldn’t risk my present safe & peaceful life, maybe I should ignore the nice touching melody outside…”. The gem kept moving & moving in circles until it got so tired & so exhausted & so consumed by confusion. At some point it broke down, fell on the floor, wept, cried, sobbed painfully.

The gem was too weak to try
The gem had to cry
The gem had to dry
The gem had to die

Tango for life!

* I recommend listening to Edith Piaf's song "La vie en rose" while reading this post! Enjoy :)

Tango for life!

Where did this melody, this eternal song that kept playing on and on, come from? When did the blood start flowing in the veins of life? When did this perfect picture gain its wonderful, perfectly matching colors? How did this dance start?

Their graceful bodies stretched. They were looking at each other’s eyes. As he was stretching out his strong arm, and slowly embracing her waste, she was landing her small hand on his shoulder. He took her other hand in his, and the warm rounded tips of his fingers rested in the small palm of her hand. Who was inviting whom to the dance?

“I don’t know how to tango.”
“Who cares?!”
“How shall I know what to do?”
“You’ll know.”


And there they moved.


On the dance floor, they were breathing with the same rhythm; inhaling together, and exhaling together, they were breathing the same air. On the dance floor, they were flowing smoothly; flying slowly like a lazy butterfly. They went in circles, on and on they went. There were times, when he stepped towards her, and she stepped back to give him space. And times when she stepped ahead, and he stepped back to welcome her at his place. There were moments when she looked down in doubt, and he led the dance, and moments when they moved in the direction where she had stretched her pearly neck. Taken by the slow peaceful melody, they flowed and flowed.

There was a moment when he stopped, looked at her with kind and encouraging eyes, tightened his arm around her waste making her stretch her body more then before, and firmly held her hand in his. There he bent a bit forth, letting her body bend backwards, moved her in half a circle, then invited her back to his embrace. How has she felt in those moments? In those moments, she saw the world upside down. She saw the world like she had never seen before. She freely flew in a circular motion. She felt the air moving around her face, making her hairs tickle her cheeks. She smiled, and said to herself “No need to be afraid. He’s there, he’s holding me tight.” When she came up to his arms again, she was a different person. For the first time in her life, she had seen the world, experienced the world, in a very different way. Since then, she has no more been herself; she is herself in harmony with the world.

By the time the final note was being played, they were ending their dance. Who stopped first? Who bowed first? Who came up first? They raised their heads, looked at each other’s eyes.

“It’s not important to dance well.”
“What’s important is to have a partner who’s willing to dance.”
“..Willing to make it a harmonious dance.”


*A deep sincere "thank you" to a kind-hearted friend for encouraging me to bring this piece to existence.