Tag: Family

Just writing

The Shepherd and The Wolf

nhpureandsimple

As I was teaching my daughter her Arabic lesson, we came across the story of The Shepherd and The Wolf. She already knew the story, but this time were using it mainly for learning some basic grammar.

Before we started our lesson, I asked her if she remembered the story.

‘I think so,’ she replied.

‘Brilliant. So what is it about?’

‘Little Red Riding Hood,’ she said and added a few others as options, none of them related to the one I’d asked about.

I couldn’t help laughing at these multiple choice answers that this young generation seems to master so well.

Now… it’s your turn.

Have you or your children heard of this story before?

If not, here it is:

Once upon a time, a young Shepherd was getting bored of his daily routine with the sheep. Everyone had the same chores to do and finish before the sun went down. They would wave hi and bye, and then hurry off to tend for their duties.

Day after day, the level of the Shepherd’s boredom exceeded the limits. 

Then one day, he came up with a silver idea, the one that would stir a bit of hustle and bustle in the small village.

That day, the Shepherd waited until the noon sun was shinning everywhere. He ran all the way to the top of the mountain and looked down at the people enjoying their noon meal. Then, he screamed and screamed and screamed.

‘The wolf is attacking my sheep. Help. Help!’ he yelled and yelled and yelled.

The people, old and young, men and women, left their chores, abandoned their meal, and ran up the hill all the way to rescue him.

Slippers, old shoes, sticks, pans, pots, and knives were their weapons. 

Breathless and exhausted, they reached the spot where the boy stood,

but there was no wolf, and the sheep were calm and happily grazing around.

The young shepherd apologised and explained how terrified he’d felt, hearing swishing and swooshing around, and thinking it must be a wolf.

The villagers sighed in relief and left the boy in peace.

Excited, the boy repeated the same show three times, each one with a different lie.

But the fourth time, the fake story became a real one.

A real wolf appeared, ready to play its role for a real drama.

The boy screamed nonstop,

His screams were earnest. ‘Help. Help. Please Help. The wolf is eating my sheep.’

But this time, his show didn’t win any audience.

The wolf grinned and hunted more and more.

The boy’s voice broke, and he could scream no more.

He finally realised that no one trusted him any more.

Wouldn’t it have been better if the young Shepherd had thought of some other exciting way to break his boredom without lying.

At the end of the day, even if some people smile and clap for the lair, they will neither trust nor respect them.

With never-be-the lying Shepherd thoughts,

Nahla

daily prompt, Just writing

Other Than My Family

nhpureandsimple

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.

With book-and-friends thoughts,

Nahla

daily prompt, Just writing

Well… I still like my one and only career

nhpureandsimple

What is your career plan?

I am a full time mother.

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.

With full-time mother thoughts,

Nahla

Just writing

Should I take such umbrage in this situation?

nhpureandsimple

Well… sometimes you just don’t know how or why people behave this way or that? And honestly, in this situation, it’s better not to make a big deal of it.

So, today my daughter and I took the bus home. It wasn’t busy, but it was so warm inside the bus. All the windows were locked, and most people seemed to have a bad cold.

Isn’t it normal to open the window where you sit?

I think it is, especially if you feel like sitting in a sauna.

So, I consulted my neighbour, who was my daughter, and she said, “yes please mama.”

I stood, stretched to reach it, and finally pulled it open. Sometimes you just wonder why they design the windows that high… but perhaps it’s for some safety reasons.

Anyway, how refreshing it was to feel the cool air above your head, and to smell the scent of the fresh rain instead of the thick, condensed air inside the bus.

Just a few minutes later, and as my daughter and I were talking, and out of nowhere, I heard a woman’s voice nearby, not asking or even suggesting that the window be closed but saying she was closing it. In a flash, she pushed it shut, and just like a ghost disappeared.

For a second, my daughter and I looked at each other, wondering why she closed the window. She wasn’t the one sitting next to it, and since the seats in front and behind us were empty, there was no way she would be affected by it.

As our journey wasn’t taking long, I didn’t make a fuss. I told my daughter, “Perhaps she was sensitive to the fresh, cold air.” We smiled, and continued our conversation, and soon got out into the real fresh air.

Should I have taken umbrage at such behaviour?

I think… I did better by ignoring her and her action completely.

What do you think?

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

Rain and Sun 

nhpureandsimple

Today, an hour ago, as I was reading by the window, I glanced at the blue sky. Its beautiful blue invites everyone to gaze into it and forget everything else. 

Beautiful, I whispered, and my eyes moved back to my reading. But then, the sun shone into them. I tried to evade its brightness, but couldn’t. It was warm, and we had missed it over the last few days. 

So I remained where I was, enjoying its warmth while continuing to read.

Then, all of a sudden, I heard rain, beating rain, big raindrops falling somewhere. 

I glanced out the window; no rain. But, I did hear rain.

I moved to another window, and just then it was pouring, generously pouring. 

The sun was shining and smiling, happy to watch the rain, just like me.

Oh my… the poor people were running along the streets. It’s been a bit chilly here, but some still think it’s not time for coats. They were running, trying to find any shelter. The trees gave them another cold shower, and the sun began playing her favourite game of hide and seek. 

And I smiled. 

Then the rain stopped, and the sun was still playing.

Oh my…  I remembered the laundry. It wasn’t outdoors, but I wondered whether to take it out or not risk it for my friend still playing hide and seek. 

Better not.

But I hate dryers.

I think I’ll give it a try.

That’s how rain and sun can change your day—from weather to whether.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

Just writing

All Sorts of Weather

nhpureandsimple

September is a dear, special visitor who brings all sorts of weather in a beautiful gift box. And come rain or shine, its visit is always welcome, always endearing.

Today, for example, is windy, sunny, and a bit chilly, with refreshing drizzles expected later on. But no one huffs or puffs. No one is lazy. No one hides. Why? Because it’s September, bringing gentle vibes at the dawn of autumn.

Do you know what the big dilemma in September is?

It’s something we set aside during summer and bring out in winter!

Can you guess?

I think you got it right.

It’s the coat.

Shall I put it on?
No, it’s warm.
Yes, it’s grey and humid.
No need, I’ll be back before it starts pouring.
But it’s already pouring.
This coat is useless.
This one is too heavy.
Grab it.
Leave it.
Why did I take it?
I should have taken it.

This becomes a significant part of my family daily conversation before stepping out of the house throughout September.

But, doesn’t it add a bit of change and fun?

At least, you have the option and the full responsibility for all its consequences.



With hope and peace,

Nahla

daily prompt

The Nearest, the Furthest

nhpureandsimple

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

Back then in Egypt, many years ago, when I was just a child, my family used to take two different holidays during the summer. Of course, none of them were abroad; that wasn’t even in my dreams.

The first trip was always to visit my grandparents and relatives in one of the most beautiful cities in Upper Egypt. The train journey took about six long hours. By long, I mean really long, not like nowadays, when time slips through our fingers like water. Still, I enjoyed every bit of it.

Our journey didn’t end with those six hours for my grandparents were living in a small village about a two- hour drive from the city. Sometimes we stayed in the city for a few days to visit relatives, but then we’d head straight to that small, simple village where my grandparents waited for us in their big, old house. We usually stayed there for around two months, but of course, after the first week, my father would take the train back to Cairo for he couldn’t be off work for that long .

Our second long trip was always to one of the quietest and furthest seaside cities on the western coast of Egypt. We always headed there around the first of September, when the weather used to cool down a bit at that time of the year. We stayed for only one week, since school started by the middle of the month.

We travelled there by coach and always with a group of family friends from Cairo. The journey was just as long as our train ride to the south. Excited about the sea waves, colourful shells, and building sand castles, I always looked forward to this holiday, and I never minded the distance.

Strange how, many years later, when my husband and I took our first flight to England, we thought we’d be too far from home. But in the end, that journey turned out to be actually the closest of all.

Things depend on how you feel about a place. The furthest can be the nearest. The furthest can be the most exciting, the most unexpected. And sometimes, the furthest can be home too.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

holidays

Simple Fun on a Long Walk

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It seemed like a breezy afternoon with mild sunshine, a few fluffy clouds floating in the blue sky, and a gentle wind playing with the trees. Isn’t that the perfect time for a nice walk? That was my suggestion, which my husband approved, and my thirteen-year-old daughter surrendered to with a long sigh.

In a few minutes, we were walking down a long hill, for that was the plan to walk all the way to the end and then climb back up to our house. I was hoping I could bribe my family to stretch the walk a bit further, but I changed my mind, and that wasn’t because it started raining.

A few minutes after we stepped out onto the long road, the sun turned blazing, the clouds evaporated, and the wind changed direction as if heading towards a different destination.

As we walked, we realised that we were almost the only ones on the road at that hour.  Oh my… even the birds had disappeared. The number of cars and buses passing by was countable. We couldn’t help but laugh until it struck us that it was time to climb back up the same long road. That’s when the real challenge began.

The merciless sun turned straight into our faces as if blaming us for choosing the wrong time for a walk. And one can’t easily evade the English sun. So we kept walking: my daughter dreamed of ice cream, my husband of a long nap, and I of sunceam as my face was already burning.

Halfway along the walk, we discovered a simple joy as some dry tree leaves joined us on the road. Their crunch beneath our shoes lifted my daughter’s mood, and she began searching for the driest leaves with the crunchiest sound. I found the idea both fun and soothing, so I joined her. Surprisingly, we attracted the attention of some hibernating neighbours who stepped out, curious to see what was happening.

Finally, we were home. I was pleased we had made it, my husband was already thinking about a second round later on, and my daughter felt sorry for my sunburn.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

P.S.

It seems the rain heard of our dilemma and decided to grace us in abundance!







Just writing

The Noble Prince

nhpureandsimple

Have you ever passed by such a beautiful robin?

He was standing just like that— perched on the back of the rusty bench while my daughter and I were walking in the park. She saw him first and whispered to me, “Look, Mama, look at that robin.”


“Oh, so cute,” I whispered back, and we both froze on the spot— wondering whether to move closer or walk away.

We quietly moved closer, and—surprisingly— the noble prince remained on his throne. Whether it was humility or pride— he stayed silent, his tiny eyes seemed to watch us.

How I wished he would sing— something, anything. But he seemed to have no song. Still, we couldn’t blame him; it was such a grey, humid, and hot day.

At least we were honoured to capture a photo of the park’s noble prince.

With hope and peace,

Nahla

memories

To Panic is To Laugh

nhpureandsimple


I once heard that laugher can relieve panic attacks. You may wonder, as I do, how someone in a panic attack could think of anything funny. Some say a person can force themselves to laugh. Perhaps this advice is based on scientific studies, or maybe it’s just an old folk remedy.

But, based on my own humble experience, I can also say that many cases of panic attacks end up being hilarious incidents.

One day before last Christmas, things went a bit spooky—just like a halloween night. December is known for its freezing weather, short days, and long nights—not to mention its violent storms. That evening, my daughter was invited to her friend’s birthday party at some restaurant in town.

Darkness fell early that evening, and strong wind began to pick up. My plan was to take the bus, stop by my husband’s workplace, and then we go together to pick up my daughter.

The moment I stepped onto the bus and scanned my ticket, I felt as if I were in the wrong time or on the wrong bus. The bus was almost full, but not of the usual passengers. Instead, it was packed with people who looked as though they were going to a party. Men and women with different ages were dressed in shiny, glittering outfits.

Slowly, I made my way to the nearest available seat and sat next to a woman who was deep in slumber. I checked the time and it was just past five pm, and I was sure I was on the right bus.

As the bus pulled away, the party started—not with singing or dancing but with loud, chaotic conversations. It was as if they were on separate buses, shouting across the road. They were planning and arguing what food or drinks to order. It was such a noisy and amusing gathering that I didn’t know whether to frown or smile.

We arrived early in town and decided to have a hot drink until it was time to pick up my daughter. The wind pushed and pulled at us as we hurried downhill toward the nearest café. The streets were almost empty— no one was around. If it wasn’t for the Christmas lights, the town would have looked like a haunted place.

We arrived home safe and sound, but not without a few surprises. My husband hurried to the nearest convenience store to buy a few things as weather warnings announced severe conditions.

For the first time since our move, the wooden front gate was locked. (It’s the type with a metal latch that you push up to open or down to lock.) That night, it was fully down and stuck. It became so dark as if it was midnight rather than just past seven pm.

I tried to unlock the gate, but my attemps didn’t work. When I asked my daughter to jump over to try from the inside, she looked shocked as if I had asked her to climb a tree. I tried and tried until the metal moved up— not completely, but enough to be pushed open.

My daughter hurried upstairs to her room to charge her phone while I heated our dinner. Then, all of a sudden, a loud alarming sound echoed all over the house. I ran back and forth, checking everything, trying to find where this sound came from. Then, my daughter started screaming from upstairs, and I ran up to her room.

‘Mama, it’s my phone. It’s making a horrible noise and it’s so hot.’ My daughter was shaking, her face pale as a white sheet.
‘Turn it off,’ I shouted, snatching it from her hands.
It burned in my hand, but the alarming sound had stopped.

We both ran downstairs and left the phone on the kitchen counter, and watching it as if it might explode. The only thought popping into my mind was to throw it away into the garden. Just before taking this action, my phone rang. One of my sons was calling, and I poured out everything that had happened, except my idea to throw the phone away.

‘Are you sure the sound was coming from the phone?’ My son asked.
‘Yes,’  my daughter and I answered at the same time.
‘Was there anything else strange about it?
‘Yes, the screen turned all yellow with a warning message.’ My daughter explained.

My son burst out laughing, just as my husband walked in.
‘Did you get the storm warning message?’ he asked

‘And you were going to throw my phone, Mama,’ my daughter said, the colour returning to her face.
‘And you didn’t even try to read the message!’ I said, and breathed in relief

My daughter and I fell onto the nearest sofa, shaking with laughter, tears rolling down our faces.

What a day! But see? Sometimes, to panic is also to laugh.

With hope and peace,

Nahla