Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?
Time: Year Nine
Place: Cairo, local state girls’ school
Class: Arabic
As far I can remember, a different Arabic Story was included in our curriculum every year.
I can mainly remember that book, though I’m not actually sure whether it was in year eight or nine.
Anyway the story was somehow historical, the kind of heroic epic with a gentle tug of innocent romance. They used to say that it was adapted from a real story.
That’s the first reason I still remember it.
As for the other reason… I’ll reveal later.
Just keep reading.
The story took place centuries ago in a small city near Alexandria. Though it was only a small city, its people, old and young, men and women, were among the bravest in all of Egypt. They had taken part in a heroic battle and made a memorial contribution to defeating and expelling the french invaders from Egyptian lands.
And so… this once -upon -a -time story unfolded during the Napoleonic Invasion of Egypt.
Within its historical, epical context, the book weaves the tale of one of the prettiest young women and one of the bravest young men in that small city.
They were cousins, deeply attached to one another, but each with a different dream.
She listened to the fortune -teller and believed she was destined to become a queen.
He listened to the cries of his country, the enemy invasion, and the duty to free his homeland.
She married the chef leader of Napoleon campaign and travelled to France, but she never became a queen.
He worked hard, fought for his country, and married an English girl who believed in his cause.
She returned defeated and humiliated.
He stayed, died, and was buried as a martyr and loyal man to the very end.
The end.
Isn’t it a memorable story.
Now, here’s the second reason which is a bit funny, and that’s why I remember it.
Isn’t memory selective?
Yes it is, and it always seems to swing between two extremes: the happy and the awful.
So then… here’s the fun bit.
During one of the classes, while the teacher was in the middle of explaining the historical events, a girl raised her hand to ask a question.
Strange how I still remember that girl, but not her name. Perhaps it’s because she was the tallest in the class.
The girl was leaning against the wall when, out of the blue, she threw her question into the room: What was the age difference between Zubaida (the pretty heroine) and Laura (the English girl)?
Our Arabic teacher turned and gave the girl one of those blazing looks that made the whole class freeze.
“Out of all the sensible questions we’re practising, you came up with the one that doesn’t relate. Why would you ever care about their age?”
The poor girl flushed, straightened in her seat, opened her book and flipped to a random page.
That was so funny how the poor girl, instead of keeping her dreamy question to herself, voiced it out loud.
Even now, I still can’t help laughing.
And that’s all about my memorable book.
Though it wasn’t exactly part of my childhood, my teen years will do.
This is the dentophobia; the fear of dentist visit.
Of course, I made this word up, but feel free to use it… just add me as the reference. Who knows, perhaps one day this word will be added into the encyclopaedia of odd words.
So… this is the main fear I believe most people have.
It’s the dentist, and the dental clinic.
How many times have you postponed your visit to this white, bright, ’healthy teeth guaranteed’ clinic?
Mine are Numerous.
The thing is most of the dentists look nice, talk nice, behave nice, but when their equipment, tools and shiny new technology start buzzing, nothing looks nice anymore. And that’s exactly when the first phase of fear begins.
So… once you lie down on that dental chair, your heart starts pounding hard and loud and nonstop
Then comes the eye shield, and with it your hands begin to perspire and tremble.
What follows, is opening your mouth wide, and that’s exactly when your heart almost forgets how to beat.
’Sorry, do you want me to stop? Just a few seconds more,’ your faithful dentist assures.
And your only response is to close your eyes and clutch your hands.
What else can you do?
Finally, you hear the long awaited phrase: ’All done’
You got to your feet, and thank the Lord you can leave safe and sound.
Then the second phase begins, as your kind dentist offers some warnings wrapped in gentle advice; ’Don’t speak, eat, or drink for at least two hours if not longer. And in case of any problems, call the clinic immediately.’
You listen and nod, your mouth numb and your head aching.
Last but not least, the final wave of fear arrives when you see that smiling face behind the reception desk waiting for the bill to be payed and the next appointment to be booked.
Later on you arrive home and, all of a sudden, you start craving a cup of tea. But then you remember you can’t drink.
So you gaze around the kitchen, looking for any snack, and again you remember you can’t eat.
A moment later, you phone rings, but you don’t answer it, because your ears are buzzing and your mouth is numbing.
Nothing is left but to try to relax somewhere quiet. You do, and with the mercy of God, you fall asleep.
’Congratulations… you’ve passed your dentophobia challenge with great success,’ you whisper in your dream.
And that’s when you finally realise you’ve conquered one of your fears.
Share a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.
But of course, my small family has the greatest share in any positive impact on my life.
But for this post, I’d like to talk about someone or something else.
These are books.
Yes — books have changed the way I think, the way I talk, and certainly the way I write.
Books have pulled me away from movies and TV programs altogether. I rarely use our TV, and when I do it’s mainly to watch things with my family.
People look surprised when I say, “no, I haven’t watched this or that.” And when their brows rise all the way to their hairlines. I simply ask,“have I missed much?”
Of course I haven’t, I whispered to myself.
But, honestly, to draw a clear picture, social media is part and parcel of my daily routine. But, thank God, I’m active on only two platforms.
So back to books, even the books I didn’t like, or the ones that bored me, they encouraged me to form my own views, to use my brain, and my brain warn me not to swallow everything.
And books are just other people in your life; the ones you come to know through their words, their imagination, and their experiences.
Don’t people say that books are the quietest and most constant of friends?
Indeed, they are.
And that’s why they continue to have a positive impact on my life.
My sons are in their twenties, already left the nest to build their own lives. And my daughter is fourteen, a tender, critical age that needs a mother more than a mother needs a career. ( That’s my view.)
Honestly, I like to keep my first and forever career; Mother.
It happened when the idea of starting another career popped into my head. But then things usually didn’t work out; sometimes because of distance or flexibility, and honestly most of the time because of priorities.
That’s why I decided to pursue postgraduate studies, which I’ve found more flexible and enjoyable.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t have plans for my career.
Actually, when my boys moved out, I started a new plan that lets me enjoy every moment of it:
to relax more,
to write more,
to read more,
and to not be bothered when the wardrobe door burst open with a scream, pushing the fighting clothes out.
I feel I’m blessed that I hadn’t participated in any of those live theoretical performances.
They’re too long, too show off, and too full of drama.
Long story short, the performance always begins with wonderful promises from ’powerful’ candidates; promises about health, income, education, facilities, etc.
After a long series of debates and interviews, one of the prominent candidates wins.
Let’s pretend the winner was your hero, your big hope for better life.
Day after day, you keep watching the screen, following the news. Then the first blow arrives, and many more follow, as your hero’s itinerary begins to change. Why? You wonder thinking perhaps they forget. Or do they pretend to forget all of those rosy promises?
Not only that, soon you realise that once your hero has won, you are no longer involved, no longer part of any decisions.
’Haven’t you already voted so I can decide for you?
Then rest assured, everything is for own sake.’ Your hero shows up again, wearing one of those polished political grins.
Change or no change, you sigh and turn off the screen.
You return to see for your home, your studies, your work; your real world, the one that waits for your actions without any rosy promises.
And if you didn’t vote, you thank the Lord that you saved your precious voice with full dignity.
Pure and Simple 