Tag: story

Just writing

Was it yesterday?

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Today is the first day for my oldest son to join the academic studies; today is the first day of his studies for a BA degree at university. I am excited, happy, and even nervous. In fact, I think I am more happy and excited than him. This new generation is weird!

And I’m grateful, really grateful, deep in my heart,  for all those blessings, I have had in my life.

An hour ago, or maybe less, I told my son about my first day at university. I pictured it as it was yesterday. That day I was happy, excited and very nervous. I preferred to take the underground train because it was fast and less crowded. I had to walk quite a distance before and after getting the Tube. But that long way gave me more time to enjoy and relax and it was also a good opportunity to meet others going to university although they were joining different departments and schools.

That day, I didn’t understand anything. I was one of the quietest, more precisely; I was the quietest girl in my group. But I was lucky because most of those quiet girls were also getting the Tube so I had a company on my way back. It was a hot day. The café was all full and busy, the benches out were the same. I remembered how I hated my new shoes, its heels and my painful blisters. I got back with a list of books to purchase, read and prepare for the following week. I passed by my high school; it was so close to my house and saw the girls in white shirts and navy skirts. I missed those days, I thought when my neighbour stopped me to ask about my first day at university; good I said and smiled but I wish I wouldn’t have gone in those high heels.

Was it yesterday? Oh my God, how those years have passed like a glimpse.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

Just writing

2B

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We all, actually not all, I mean those who studied literature or know about Shakespeare’s Hamlet would definitely remember the famous line ‘to be or not to be that is the question.’ Everyone has a story, a special story that s/he tries to live and be something throughout its lines, its days, its months and its years. We all try to be something. Ambition is multidimensional; power, wealth, success, knowledge, health, fame, family, etc are different directions to be something. I believe that every person has dreams and aspirations; whether they are great or humble, but we all have our own ‘to be’ plans.

One day, when I was coming back with my daughter from her friend’s birthday party, the taxi driver stopped at my house and looked at me; ‘to be,’ she said. I thought she was asking to make sure of the address, I said; ‘Yes, it is 2b.’ She then repeated seriously as if she was acting the scene; ‘To be or not to be that is the question.’ I looked at the number on my door and said; ‘Nice one’ and the two of us couldn’t stop laughing.

Isn’t it funny, as I didn’t notice that for about six months or more since we’ve moved, but the taxi driver did?

Has your address got any significance?

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

Just writing

Dream high

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Once upon a time, there were three friends; they were poor, very poor, unnoticed and worthless. What they owned in their life was three donkeys and their job was to transport people, goods and luggage from one place to another. This was how they earned their living.
One night, after a long day of hard work under the sun of the Arabian summer. They threw their bodies over the smooth sand of the desert. The full moon and the shiny stars lit the dark doom; it was no longer dark and a beautiful sparkly night was all they can see.
One of the three men closed his eyes and said: ‘Imagine my friends that I become the ruler of this country; the sovereign majesty, make a wish?
His friends laughed and laughed.

The first friend looked at the dreamer and said: ‘you be the ruler, the sovereign. No way.’

The dreamer said: ‘Just imagine, man, you wouldn’t lose anything.’

The friend said: ‘ Ok, Mr dreamer, I want a house with a magnificent garden.’

The dreamer looked at the other friend and said: what about you?

The other said: ‘This cannot be. This would never be. A donkey cart plodder would never have dreams. We’ve no future, friend.’

The dreamer did not give up: ‘It’s me who imagine not you; this is my thought, my idea. Imagine!’

His friend got-up, collected his stuff, rode his donkey and said: ‘Let your guards carry me backwards on a donkey and let them announce to everybody that I’m a fool who didn’t believe that dreams can be true.

‘As you wish, my friend,’ said the dreamer.
In the morning the dreamer deserted his friends. He sold his donkey and looked for a different way to earn his living; a watchman, a constable, an officer, a member of the town authority, an advisor, a consultant,… finally, he married the deceased ruler’s wife and became the guardian of her eight years son. He ruled the whole country until the former ruler’s son was 16 years old.

Thirty years had passed since his friends laughed at him dreaming of ruling the country. At his prosperous days, he remembered his friends and ordered his guards to bring them.
His old friends were still donkey cart plodders but their friend, the crowned head, reminded them of their wishes.
The first was mad with happiness; he was granted a house with a magnificent garden.

The second regretted that wish ever since.

Ps, this is an old story in the Arabic history with real names and incidents but what I can remember is just the main plot; therefore, I have made some adaptations.

Dream high. Dreams can be true.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

Just writing

Universal language

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Have you ever understood anyone speaking not your language?

It can happen and it did happen.

Many years ago one of my neighbours was from Mexico. She moved to the UK with her husband and her little boy, about three years old. Whenever I saw her on the stairs or the road, she was talking to herself. My neighbours and I thought she might be insane but she wasn’t. One day I gave her a leaflet about the English course centre which I was attending at that time. I cannot describe how her face changed that day. She smiled and thanked me and I felt her words were coming deeply from her heart. From that day, we became friends though we didn’t understand each other that much, she used to say that she doesn’t know why she understood me more than anyone else in the city. Honestly, neither do I. I just used to repeat what others said to her.  I wish I could have her details to keep in touch because once we moved I don’t know whether she was still in the UK or went back to her country.

I remembered her and remember how we can understand others with a different tongue on the day of Eid.  I was sitting next to an elderly woman. Probably, she was from Pakistan. She couldn’t sit on the floor, her daughter and granddaughter brought her a chair. So I was sitting on the carpet next to her on a chair. While I was talking with a friend on my other side, she tapped on my shoulder and talked as if she knew me. I understood from her looks and the tune of her voice that she didn’t like how women are chatting and didn’t listen to the Imam’s Eid speech. This was true, I was talking too but this was because the Imam’s voice was too low, probably he didn’t notice that his speaker didn’t work well. I nodded and admitted that she was right and repeated in English what she was saying in her language. She held my hand and smiled at me which I think meant she was happy I understood her though I couldn’t speak her language.

Can this be a universal language?   I think there can be a language that we can feel even though we don’t understand.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

 

Just writing

Do you worry?

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We all worry, maybe not all but most or some of us, at different levels; something that can be normal, mild or severe.

One of my friends told me once about her mother-in-law. She thinks too much about her health and her worries turned into suspicion. She does not eat at anyone’s house. She doesn’t eat any food. She rarely accepts to eat out. This is strange but who knows something might have happened to her that resulted in her being such a worried person.

Raising up children on your own in a foreign place where it is just you, your spouse and just friends who usually left, went back to their countries, is enough to make you experience worry with all levels. One day, about four years ago, my son texted me; ‘mama the bus didn’t come and I still waiting at the bus stop next to my school.’ That wasn’t something normal because my son’s school was too far from our house; it was in a remote part of the city. And on that day, he could not take the school bus because he had basketball club and finished at 4:30 pm. What made it worse was that he didn’t text when he missed the first one. He kept waiting and texted about 5:30. Why? Because he knew if his mother worries so much, he wouldn’t join the club in the winter.  Honestly, that was my decision but I didn’t tell him at that moment.

I don’t know how many times, I called and texted my husband but apparently they were so many. I still remember how he was breathless; talking while running down the stairs at his work telling me he was on his way.

When I called my son and told him that his father was on his way, he said; ‘the bus has just arrived. Shall I take it?’

‘Of course, jump on.’ I told him and he did. It was a long way from school to our house and I didn’t want him to wait any more at that far place.

‘What about papa?’ My son asked

‘Oops!’

I believe my worries were normal that day. What do you think?

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

 

Just writing

We!

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‘Good morning, mummies,’ A mother texted her friends.

‘Good morning,’ replied one of them.

‘Where are the others?’

‘Always disappear when we decide to plan for a day out.’

‘Perhaps they’re busy?’

‘ No one is busy to check the texts.’

‘Ok, let’s plan something this weeken

‘Other groups are better than this one. The others always have ideas, always ready, always well organised.’

‘ We will work on something suitable for all this time.’

‘We? We won’t, we’ll never do.’

My God, why it’s always you online? The mother whispered to herself.

‘What about this Saturday? A barbecue in the park? It’s sunny for the whole week according to the weather forecast.’

‘My husband’s working this Saturday. I can’t look after my three monkeys.’

‘We’ll do.’

‘I won’t have the car.’

‘We can arrange for this too.’

‘Oh, I forgot my children have a swimming lesson in the afternoon.’

‘At what time?’

‘3 to 4.’

‘We can start at 3 and you join us by 5 when the food is ready.’

‘No, no, my children will be tired.’

Why on earth I keep texting you?

‘What about Sunday?’

‘My children go to their Arabic school. They finish at 5 and go to bed at 6.’

‘6???’

‘Yes.’

‘So you can’t do anything this weekend.’

‘See, we’ll never be able to plan anything? I really think to leave this useless group.’

‘That would be the best plan ever!’

I thought of this story in the morning and wondered how some people always complain though they are the main cause of the problem.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

Just writing

Can we try?

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Inviting others for Iftar (breakfast); friends, relatives, or some acquaintances is a popular tradition in the month of Ramadan. Muslims believe that if one shares or offers a meal with/to others, he/she will be heavenly rewarded.  When I started writing this post, I mainly thought of the manners that both visitors and hosts are supposed to have in order to enjoy their time together. I did not think of those sophisticated rules of etiquettes; what to take as a gift, how to sit, how to eat, what to say and so on. These are great rules but I thought of something very general, sometimes that can be very hard to apply. Can we try not to poke our noses into others’ affairs?

One day, a friend visited me after I gave birth to my daughter. It was her first time to visit me and apparently she liked both the place and the house. After giving her warm congratulations; she started a series of investigations all about how many? how much? how far? All those ”hows” made her 30 minutes visit pass like 5 hours. I pretended that I didn’t know most of the answers and changed the subject to her little son. That was why she left early; ‘ You look tired,’ she said and left.

There was a story in Arabic; I have read recently. It teaches one of the visiting manners. The story was about a Muslim scholar whose best student used regularly to invite him at his house. One day, the scholar’s cousin offered to give him a ride to his student’s. Once they had arrived, the host invited that cousin to join them. They talked and ate and then it was time to leave.

On their way back, the cousin poured all his thoughts;

‘ Your student is a real gentleman; kind and generous. His house is so big, clean and tidy. His attire looks expensive and neat. And the food, it was the best I have ever tasted. His people have high skills of cooking. I’m sure he is very wealthy.’

The scholar did not comment. He was riding his cousin’s donkey and listening while watching the sun setting.

‘But they have bad manners; they let women serve food and drinks. Have you seen that woman who was holding the water jug for us to clean our hands after dinner? I don’t like that,’ his cousin added

The scholar looked at his cousin and said; ‘ I have been regularly visiting that student for ten years. I ate their food, I drank their juice and I washed my hands in their house countless times, and yet I don’t know if I was served by men or women.’

His cousin said no more.

The lesson is; they were invited to have a meal, not to interfere in other’s life.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

Just writing

My daughter’s guest

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On Friday, at school home time, my daughter ran to me with a big smile. We had a guest. This guest was her class teddy. At the end of every week, her teacher picked randomly a name which is supposed to be the luckiest to have teddy over the weekend. It’s a wonderful idea because it encourages children to write about and express their feelings as well as sharing the fun with their friends. Every week they cannot wait to know whose turn it will be. They cannot wait to have this special teddy in their house, to take photos, to write about their adventures and finally to stick and arrange everything in the teddy’s schoolbook.

So on Friday, it was my daughter’s turn. Her adventure started as soon as we left the school. She talked with her teddy about our daily walking journey to and back from school. She believed teddy was so excited because last time when we had him, we took the bus, so this time was different. As soon as we arrived, she took her guest on a tour around the new house, especially her room and introduced him to the new toys he hadn’t seen last time.

On Saturday, it was raining when we went shopping and my daughter said teddy would be very bored; he doesn’t like shopping. ‘He will this time,’ I told her, ‘because I will buy him a special chocolate.’ Teddy wasn’t bored anymore. He flew in the air; my daughter jumped to catch him and hugged him. ‘There’s a surprise for you,’ she whispered to her guest who all of a sudden changed his mind and decided that it would be fun to go shopping.

Sunday was the best; sunny and warm and we went to the seafront. There, Teddy had an ice cream. There, he collected stones. There he waved to the big ferry. What else, there he giggled when one of the little boys ran to the water to wash his chocolate ice cream cone. He gasped when his tiny feet touched the chilly salty water. But finally, he was tired and fell asleep. But on the way home, he got up and begged his friend to take him to the park. He wanted to go on the swing. And so we went there. My daughter set him next to her on the swing and took up to the sky. She looked after him so well and he didn’t fall.

It was really fun to have teddy. I think it’s a brilliant idea that can create a wonderful story out of a simple toy.

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

 

Have fun teddy!

 

 

Just writing

One more!

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Today at breakfast, my daughter said; ‘I’m full, mama.’ There wasn’t much left and I asked her to try one more to finish her plate. ‘I’m full, mama,’ she repeated.

I did not force her because she ate well and sometimes you cannot add any more. I don’t know how people in food competitions could eat that much just to win or to register a high score. It’s really awful to eat more than you can afford. It is known that animals eat when they are hungry; they eat to survive although these days I doubt it. I think they’ve changed too. Have you seen how seagulls snatch, or better to say steal, people’s sandwiches, chips and crisps? When I was young I learned that seagulls fish close to the surface. They also eat earthworms, snails and slugs. But when I moved to cities by sea or rivers, I noticed how these birds have not only adapted well to live with man but also learned his greedy eating habit.

Many years ago, one of my friends went to a social gathering with people of her country at well-known Arabic restaurant. She visited me after they had finished and described the different varieties of starters, main dishes and desserts; hummus, tabula, green salad, stuffed vine leaves, kebab, baklava, rice pudding … yummy! The list made my mouth water. But she did not look well. She tried to lay down on the sofa but she couldn’t. She told me that she ate so much and her husband gave her more. Then, she couldn’t hold it anymore; she ran to the bathroom and vomited up all the food she had eaten that night.

Wasn’t it better if she said she cannot eat anymore?

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla

Just writing

Wonder

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We’re still in the Easter break and on social media, I read many reviews and comments recommending Wonder, the American drama film. Yesterday, my boys and I watched it but my daughter didn’t want to join us so she spent the night playing with her father. My boys,15 and 17 years old, looked at me; This is not a children movie, mama? They were ready to escape. ‘Just watch and relax’, I told them.

They liked it and so did I. It’s a heartwarming and inspiring story for all ages and I cannot wait to read the novel by R. J. Palacio.

Have you watched it or read the book?

Wishing you all the best,

Nahla