Do you think humans will ever colonize Mars? What would life there actually look like?
Can you guess what’s the first thing that crossed my mind as I read this prompt about life on Mars?
It wasn’t the possibility of new life.
Not the chance of finding inhabitants living there.
And not even the idea of humans starting wars to invade and occupy the planet.
But of course that would still be occupation, as if humans don’t already have enough to deal with on our dear planet Earth.
Now… what actually popped into my head was the image of one of those social media stars embarking on a new adventure to Mars.
He or she would prattle nonstop about their nearly two way spaceship trip to Mars.
They would put on this spaceman costume.
Smile at the live camera,
maybe even record a prayer or two for safety.
Then, before disappearing into the spaceship, they would promise live vlogs from Mars.
Is there internet on Mars? The thought cut right into my imagination.
But really, if there is internet on Mars, some friends over there might have already heard of us, and they maybe… try to get in touch through WordPress.
Anyway, let’s see how this superstar vlogger’s trip ended.
After one whole month off social media, they land safely on our precious Earth.
Spaceman costume on, camera in hand, broad smile on face, and with a shaky emotional voice, they began their first live vlog.
“Can’t express my real emotions.
Such scary but marvellous trip.
Can’t believe it
Am I dreaming?”
And the tap of comments, likes, and shares explodes; wows, nos, and oh my God, racing one after another.
“Sorry guys, just landed, and I lost my phone.” The superstar seems in a rush.
“Thieves on Mars,” one follower comments.
“I’ll tell you everything. You know honesty is my motto in life.
Wait for the next vlogs.
I will share more about my adventure on the moon.”
“Wasn’t it Mars?” Another follower comments.
“Oh, my head is upside down,” the famous vlogger replies and vanishes.
“That’s all fake,” someone comments
“Yes, all fake,” a thousand comments follow.
Nowadays… fake is more popular than reality, but it’s easily spotted.
I don’t know whether there’s life on Mars, or whether life is even possible there.
What I do know is why some people set their eyes on what they don’t own.
Why some abandon what they already have for something they can barely reach.
And why people want to build a new home instead of fixing the one they have.
Apparently, if Mars ever heard of human plans, he would shake with laughter, wondering how his neighbour’s intruders from Earth expect to survive his freezing cold deserts.
If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?
Since we were created with different tongues, I find it very interesting how names sound different in other cultures.
So though my name has just four simple letters, in English it can’t be pronounced the same.
In Arabic, the h is pronounced clearly, like the h in hello, but it is dropped in English because it’s difficult to pronounce when followed by an L.
And things don’t stop there as the other three letters are also pronounced differently… more stronger.
But I’ve been used to it, and I actually like the change.
When my husband and I chose Arabic names for our children, we tried our best to make them easy for English speakers to pronounce. Still, they never sound the same.
Different tongues, right.
And then, years ago, more interesting things happened.
One of my friends told me about her attempt to correct the pronunciation of her name for English speakers, but none of them worked.
Her name is Eman. Oh… how I love this name.
When I was young, I wished my name was Eman, after one of my favourite teachers.
And If it wasn’t already used in my family, I would have named my daughter Eman.
By the way, Eman means faith.
Isn’t that a beautiful meaning.
One day, as we were walking together, she suddenly started talking to herself.
‘It’s E and man. If they can easily pronounce man, why can’t they pronounce it in my name?’
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.
