my real love

i am a creature of the arab world, with its westernization, contradiction, hybridization, mash, bla bla-it. My love for the language is smeared by my lack of perfect fluency and mastery. Like, all my loves, I aspire to hold, inside of me. I aspire to contain the language in me. Maybe, one day, something really shitty will happen and I will allow myself to take a reprieve, travel the world and simmer to the arabic sun. does it always have to be this way? why does it take such tragedy and confusion to take clear cut decisions. why can't i be brave? i should do exactly that after my call to the bar. i would be what everyone has pushed me to be and maybe then i can gift them my tarnished liver and collapsing lungs. take that, my law degree and my inculcation to the canadian ruling class. it cost just about everything and the power i so longed for as an arab woman, well, im still challenged and still doubted, with a degree, a shorter hair cut, a power-house name on my card, a totalizing subject of my art and well, sometimes, i do get my respects, from the underdogs who don't totally understand the system of hierarchy in this part of town.
anyway, this is not what i wanted to spread around anonymously today. instead, it is this sensitive combination of words and lyric. something, from my home town, wherever in the arabic speaking world that is:

لا تنحني مثل البشرحياتي لا ظلي القمر
صوتك صدى
ليالي السهر ومثلك ما صار
لا تنحني مثل البشرحياتي لا ظلي القمر
صوتك صدى
ليالي السهر ومثلك ما صار
روحي اسبقي نجوم السما
ياما الحلا فيك احتمى
قلبي ارتمى بحضني ارتمى
والزهر نوار
حلوة الدنيا حلوة سوا
قلبي وقلبك فوق الهوى
داب الماضي راح وانطوى
والزمان دوار
حلوة الدنيا حلوة سوا
قلبي وقلبك فوق الهوى
داب الماضي راح وانطوى
والزمان دوار
والزمان دوار
لا تختفي ظلي النظر
وكوني الصفا وكوني المطر
رسمك ندا خلا القدر
الحلا يختاار
لا تختفي ظلي النظر
وكوني الصفا وكوني المطر
رسمك ندا خلا القدر
الحلا يختار
روحي اسبقي نجوم السما
ياما الحلا فيك احتمى
قلبي ارتمى بحضني ارتمى
والزهر نوار
حلوة الدنيا حلوة سوا
قلبي وقلبك فوق الهوى
داب الماضي راح وانطوى
والزمان دوار
حلوة الدنيا حلوة سوا
قلبي وقلبك فوق الهوى
داب الماضي راح وانطوى
والزمان دوار
حلوة الدنيا حلوة سوا
قلبي وقلبك فوق الهوى
داب الماضي راح وانطوى
والزمان دوار

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pUD9MzzqVE

Carla Bruni

Listening to Carla Bruni was torture.

I am not sure if she started singing after she married Sarkuzi or before (usually, when I care, I take the time to google such details), but she is not good either way.

Maria callas 1965 with co stars Tito Gobbi and Meneto Cioni Royal Opera House Covent Garden

i never really liked opera. so, i am sort of forcing myself to continue listening. i appreciate the talent and may appreciate it a bit more if it was a live show. but, in my bachelors appartment, with the smell of onions frying in the background and mixing with the dust of belly dancers, I am not convinced.

what has been going on

since my last entry, a lot has happened. i have lost many things and then re-imagined them. i am not sure if i have the same things or if they are better now. the things. the things.

i am no longer feeding the creative self destructive energy as often. i don't know where it went. i recently purchased a book titled: live through this. ed. sabrina chapadjiev. on creativity and self-destruction. Others have been through this. some of their work couldn't have been without alienation. i am no where close to where i was and so even my train of thought, which is supposed to belong to me, has detached to open shop and along the way develop attention deficit disorder.

in an effort to maintain who i am and my love to the world, i have begun a project. if i was who i was before, it wouldn't have been a project but a natural reaction to the world. instead, and happy with what i have, i decided that i can control the development of a new friendship. a new guy moved up where i work and initially i felt a physical attraction. i struggled with questions of infidelity but resigned now to believe that attraction is normal but detachment from loved ones isn't. so, concentrating my fidelity to fixing the later, i rejected dinner invitations but took up a mid-day coffee invite. i, certainly, just wanted to get to know a new human being who seemed so random to my life. the randomness of it all was what i used to pursue so unconsciously and now i simply allowed myself to bump into the randomness.

he seemed all and all boring to me. despite his many travels, he was oh so boring. the more boring thing about him was him telling me a little snippet about how his family isn't close. oh, no, the more boring thing was the monologue he was having about his work situation in Poland. shhhhhhh.

however, the reason he is at all worth the mention is the box he gave me. he is to move out again and go back to Poland after a little failure he experienced with the landlord. the box has a big selection of jazz and classical music. i admit that from a quick scan, i know none of the artists.

my entries will be on and around those cd's. i have many and will post on each as i educate my heart to their rhythms.

بصمتك اعلم انك لا تشعر

كنت اسامح المسافرين لبرودة وداعاتهم

و اقول في قارة نفسي ان الانشغال هو السبب

فيكون توضيب الحقائب اشد ايلاما من تناقس قبلي

و ترتيب المواعيد اكثر اهمية من مكالماتنا الاخيرة 

لا بأس لان مصاعب السفر تشغل الانسان عن احبابه

كنت أؤمن ان الباقون هم اكثر المتألمون

لأنهم من سيشعر بالفراغ الملموس

في الغرفة، على الفراش، طاولة الافطار

إلا عندما رأيت آلام الفراق تهد واجهة ابي عند رحيله

كلنا باقون و كنا تعودنا على فراقه

و لكنه بالرغم من بيعه بيتنا القديم و ذكرياتنا

يشعر بغيابنا بسفره اكثر منا

وهكذا تعلمت ان حزن الوداع ليس مضمون اتجاهاته

و لا الانشغال او الاثاث المهمل

بل ان العلامة الوحيدة هي

ادراك الفراغ في القلب

و الخوف

على فقدان مؤنسي الروح

Darwish in English makes sense

While Waiting 

While waiting, I become obsessed with observing
the many possibilities: maybe she forgot her small
suitcase on the train, and my address got lost
and her mobile phone got lost, so she lost her appetite
and said: No share of the light drizzle for him /
Or maybe she got busy with an urgent matter or a journey
to the south to visit the sun, and called
but didn’t find me in the morning, because
I had gone to buy some gardenia for our evening 
and two bottles of wine /
Or maybe she was in dispute with her ex-husband 
over matters of memory, and she swore not to see
another man who might threaten her with making memories /
Or maybe she crashed into a taxi on the way
to see me, which extinguished some planets in her galaxy.
And she is still being treated with tranquilizers and sleep /
Or maybe she looked in the mirror before going out
of herself, felt two large pears
making waves on her silk, then sighed and hesitated:
Does anyone else other than myself deserve my womanhood /
Or maybe she ran, by coincidence, into an old 
love she hadn’t healed from, and joined him for dinner /
Or maybe she died,
because death loves suddenly, like me,
and death, like me, doesn’t love waiting

http://www.universeofpoetry.org/palestine_darwish-tribute.shtml

الأيام تمر و اللوحات تسألني عنكي

اذكر حبي لكي الليلة

و هو مصان كما زمن الزعتر

و لكننا كالصمغ لا العسل

متفقتين على الدمار الشامل

لكل قصر بنيناه من ريح

غيرتني بلا عودة

كنت أقل عقلانية في دهاليز المحبة

و كنت ان كنت أحب أسامح

كان طبعي مساوما أكثر

لكنك غيرتني في آخر لحظة

من بعدك لا أقبل الظلم

و لا استطعم الحب بجنونية غير مسؤلة

صرت أحرم نفسي من لطفك في أعز لحظات العطش

لكثرة احتقانك و لسع صوتك

أخاف على نفسي منك

لم أعرف قبلك معنى الالتزام بكلمة 

لا

من دونك لما استطعت الثقة بمعايري

بلجم احتياجاتي منك 

انا الآن أقوى من الاستسلام لحب من فتات زعتر

صديقتي أنا أحبك و مشتاقة 

بيتي يغني لذكراك و حضني فارغ

و لكني ادركت نفسي قبل ان اتلاشى

و تنتهي معرفتي بذاتي في قبولي لجنونك

سامحيني و لكن علاقتي بنفسي أهم

أحب أني أحبك و اشعر بالخجل باستذكار لحظاتنا

احس بالاطمئنان لاني احتفظ بصداقتنا

احترم نفسي اكثر لأني لن اتردد بالوقوف معك

اذا احتاج الأمر أو دعمك

و لكن حتى تلك اللحظةـ باقية بحبك بعيدة

ابريق الماء برجي

لم يعد هناك ما يقال 

...

نبقى اصدقاء بلا مصادفات

و ننظر برأفة على ما مضى

...

كلن يلعق جراحه 

Reviewing the trailer of "Captain Abu Raed"

I did not watch this movie, nor desire to, but from the trailer I predict that my allergies will spawn on me if I do. Do not be surprised that it is actually directed by a 'Jordanian' film maker, Amin Matalqa'.  Here are two trailers, try to trace the techniques of engineering affect: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmqbUW0Uj7k

and 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hc2FKIh0QkE

Even though the second trailer for the U.S. audience is clearly narrated in the familiar American cultural production voice, the first trailer is similarly situated. To me, the story as cast by the trailer, the music, the relationships between the characters and the affect mobilized are all Hollywood incarnations.  It is nauseating to say the least but instead of searching for the illusive authenticity in Jordanian representations, it is important to recognize that this creation is a reflection of something authentic to the film maker and that is the postcolonial and imperial location of his reality. 

Before googling his name and biography, I assumed Amin Matalqa' is another Jordanian student who left to study abroad (in the West) and came back to join the cadre of Arabizi subculture of West Amman (subjects of my masters' research paper). He though has a better excuse and that is that his family immigrated to the U.S. when he was 13. This geopolitical detail presents another, fascinating case study for cultural representation. His movie is being promoted as Jordan's Oscar entry for Best Foreign Film. It may be that everything making the movie is Jordanian but it certainly does not even pretend to showcase itself as a Jordanian story in the trailer. Or does it? 

One institution of the colonial past that still operates in Jordan is the British Council. As the United Kingdom’s principal agency for cultural relations in 110 countries, its purpose is to “enhance the reputation of the UK in the world as a valued partner.”[1] Established in Jordan in 1948, it is documented as part of the effort led by the British Foreign Office to establish an organization “responsible for the promotion of British culture, education, science and technology in other countries, along the lines of existing French, German and Italian cultural organizations. While its work was mainly in securing resources and proper recruitment for English schools and British institutes abroad, its information work (during Britain’s engagement in the Second World War) was transferred to the Ministry of Information that was responsible for propaganda.[2] 

The British Council offers school-leaving certificates in Jordan called the General Certificate of Education (GCE) and the International General Certificate of Secondary Education (IGCSE). These certificates are offered by Edexcel International Foundation and Cambridge International Examinations (CIE) and are operating in more than 29 schools in Jordan.[3] The IGCSE system is a programme of education that has been developed by the University of Cambridge for examinations in English. Examination systems, such as the IGCSE, are important for assessing learning and for determining the selection of candidates for further education stages.[4] More critically, examination systems play a significant role in setting the curricula at the classroom level. This issue is significant for postcolonial states because “[t]he creation of national examination agencies is …an expression of self-determination.” [5] While many countries seek to localize their secondary school examinations after gaining independence, Jordan boasts about the increasing number of schools providing IGCSE. To the students’ detriment, a foreign examination system neglects the local culture and the realities of the exam takers. This educational experience facilitates students’ entry into and success in western universities and also focuses their academic interests  and desires/dreams abroad. 

Along with the spread of such English-medium education systems in Jordan, English language has become an important social marker for Jordanian middle class. The use of English in everyday speech functions as a marker of difference, in an almost ethnic manner. In the western, more affluent side of Amman, (East Amman houses a large number of Palestinian refugees, working class and underfunded infrastructure) it is inescapable to hear a mid-sentence hybridization of Arabic and English. This form of code-switching has been named Arabizi. It is often blamed on forces of globalization or the westernization of Jordanian middle class culture. According to news sources, Arabizi “is widely used among Jordan's Western-educated elites, drawing ire from language purists and exposing a widening social and economic gap in the small kingdom.”[6] The “phenomenon” has become so prevalent that a documentary was made to explore this issue.[7] While most of the theories provided to explain this situation concern either the popularity of American pop culture or the widening gap between rich and poor, the debate disregards Jordan’s colonial history and its current postcolonial moment.

In The Oxford History of the British Empire, Judith Brown considers the position of English language as an international language to be one of the most significant legacies of the British Empire.[8] It is often stated that the starting point of the colonial education policy of the British Empire is the Macaulay’s famous ‘Minute’ of 1835.[9] This is so even though ‘The Macaulay system’ was directed to the development of Indian education. While the terms of the debate over colonial education policy may have been similar between different colonies, some academics warn that “the disparity in local conditions, and the distinct priorities of different colonial administrations, led to a variety of policy outcomes.”[10] For example, the British, under the mandate, refused to even engage educational reform in the rural areas of Jordan in order to maintain a level of underdevelopment and subordination.[11]

Add those factors to American political and military alliance with the Jordanian regime and American pop cultural invasion through Hollywood and you get Jordanians dreaming in Austin Wintory's orchestral score.  This last youtube link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-sl-FmWnWQ&feature=related demonstrates something else and that is as the Hollywood Studio Symphony dude says in it: “contrary to expectations it’s totally not a political film.” This, I suppose, in direct contrast to the political and politicized socio-economic cultural reality of Jordan, deserves the applause and affirmation of the white man.  

---

[1] www.britishcouncil.org >About Us. Last accessed December 16, 2008.

[2] Ibid .

[3] http://www.britishcouncil.org/jordan-learning-exams-igcse-gce.htm; last accessed December 16, 2008.

[4] Bray, Mark. National Self-Dependence and International Dependence: the organization and control of secondary school examinations in the small states of the commonwealth. Abingdon, 5, 2 (July 1998), 152.

[5] Bray (1998), 158.

[6] Gulf news, accessible from: http://archive.gulfnews.com/articles/05/12/18/10005789.html

[7] The documentary is called “Arabizi” by Dalia Alkury, graduate of Wilfrid Laurier University in Canada.

[8] Judith M. Brown and William Roger Louis (eds), The Twentieth Century. The Oxford History of the British Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 706 quoted in Sweeting, Anthony and Edward Vickers. Language and the History of Colonial Education: The case of Hong Kong. Modern Asian Studies 41, 1 (2007), 1.

[9] Sweeting and Vickers (2007), 11.

[10] Ibid .

[11] AL-Tall, A. (1978). Development of Education System in Jordan 1921 – 1977. Ministry of Culture and Youth, Amman, Jordan, 75.

نهاية الأزهار

كانت البداية، ممتعة، كمن يعيش في الأفلام

ازهار على الطاولة و جريدة الصباح

اشتريتها للصحبة، كي تشاهدني

بصارحة، كنت وحيدة يومها

و اردت الرفقة و الشعور بأني مميزة

على الأقل في ذلك  اليوم

 

مرت الأيام، ثلاث بالتحديد

و اطفأت الأزهار نورها

و استعدت للرحيل

و أنا اليوم اشاهد بذعر

كل ورقة تقع و ترن الآذان

تقرع اجراس الوداع

 

ازهاري لم تحادثني طوال علاقتنا

و كأنها غاضبة على قراري الأوحادي

بأن نتساير و هي الطليقة الحرة التي

لم تكن تريد السجن الذهبي في قلبي

و لأنها حقودة، بدأت بالموت أمامي

تتنظر عودتي لتتساقط من قصادي

ورقة بعد الثانية

 

ازهاري تحادثني اخيرا

كلامها واضح لدرجة التجريح

و انا قد وقعت بحبها فلا هروب ولا رجعة

 الخيار الوحيد هو الانتظارحتى النهاية

علا وجدت نفسي بلا خيار

إلا ان امضي بحياتي دونها و الاستغفار

مراجعة حكايتي شرح يطول: Review

Review of the novel حكايتي شرح يطول 

Author:  2005 حنان الشيخ

 In her usual articulate story telling technique, Hanan il sheikh in her novel حكايتي شرح يطول, is able to tear down the stage curtains enveloping the world of literature in order to provide a vivid, situated and inescapably inviting tale. The only literary mask in this novel is Hanan's choice of 'novel' as the genre printed on the book cover as opposed to 'biography'.* Her portrayal of her mother's memoires "Kamela" will surely suck you in through the intricate depiction of Lebanon's rural landscape, the village life, the relationships in Beirut and the complexity of life for the illiterate and literate alike.  Only a few novels that I have ever read were able to break down the walls between reality and fiction and this story, with its rich contextual narrative, has been the most successful. 

At the outset, the characters are located in South Lebanon "بالنبطية" and are artistically utilized to represent a rich account of poverty, childhood and innocence. The voice in the narrative is of Hanan's mother as she experiences a forced marriage, an intense love affair with a neighbor and with the cinema, childbirth, separation, divorce, war and death. You cannot escape being invited into Kamela's family and community as it stands united and divided by class, political ethnicity and gender roles. Kamela, experiences her life from a cinematically romantic perspective combined with an insatiable appetite for the world, love and sweets. 

In the end, you depart from the novel in tears as you come to recognize -by living the texture of the history, page by page,- the complexity of the relationship between the writer and the characters. At the same time, I feel at ease, as I am sure others would, by the fact that we all share the same idiocentricities in this serious world, that the possibility of rebellion from social norms is a legacy only tarnished by fools and that the child in every one of us, according to Hanan, will never die.  

*Link to a great review in Arabic.

thoughts around death

Yesterday, and upon finishing Hanan il-Sheikh's book "حكايتي شرح يطول", I realized that the reason I do not work to spend time with my parents, is my fear of loving and depending on them too much. This fear is hinged on the certainty of death. 

On the other hand, I never hesitate in sharing my life and extending my love to my consecutive partners. I think the trust is hinged on my naïveté about how death works. 

  

اشعر بك في كل الأوطان... و لكن

أحبك و الدمع لألئ اغزل بها مهجتي

ان ما في داخلي لا وسع له

في الفضاء العاري او على صدر المحيط

هائج بحري، رافض للواقع و قوقعته من المحار

 

انا الغريبة، العطشة، انا حبة الهال

أحبك عبر الزمان، اين انقش شعري

جسدي موشوم بتاريخنا، بعمر الصدف

ان ذهبنا، من سيروي الشواطئ، من سيحضن الموانئ

أتستطيع؟

.لوركا سبيتي(2004): أنت لي الآن...تحرر. دار المختارات، الزلقا

ليس المهم أنك حي
ليس المهم أنك انسان و لست

بسلحفاة
ليس المهم أنك مجبول بطين ولست

. من نار
،هل يمكنك تحمل الحزن
حزني و حزنك معا؟
أتعيد تلوين صبرنا النبيل و تتزين

به أمام الأغنياء؟
أتدخر شيئا من ابتسامنا و تتصدق

به للفقراء؟
أتتجرأ يوما على مواجهة قلبك؟
أتسمو يوما عن الزمن و تطهر منه

جوفك؟
أتخاطر يوما لتشبه مجنونا؟
من أجل الحب
من أجل الخبز
.و من أجل السلام

ليس المهم أي وطن نبت فيك و أي

جذور طرزت ملامحك
و أي أبجدية عصرت اسمك
ليس المهم كم امرأة أحييتها

بأنفاسك
.و لا كم طفل أنجبته بلا دنس
و لا كم أنت واثق، حذر، وودود
و لا كم سور سيجت به حدود

. انسانيتك

،أيمكنك العيش مع الفشل
فشلي و فشلك معا؟
أتظل تصفق عند اسدال الستارة؟
أتظل تصفق عند اسدال الستارة؟

،أتظل ترقص بدءا من اصابع قدميك

،و تتنتشي من لحظي المليء بالتجاعيد
و من بطني المشقق؟
أتظل تراسل ذاكرتي البطيئة
و تداعبني بالقصص حتى الصباح؟

،لا اكترث كم تكتسي من العمر
،و لا كم تكسب لتعيش
و لا كم قمر يشبهك
،لا اكترث ان كانت امك مريم
او غانية من الصحراء
أتظل صادقا مع نفسك
حين يصير الكون كذبة؟

أتظل جميلا بنفسك

حين يصير الكون بشعا؟
أتظل وحيدا مع نفسك
حين يصير الكون حبة تراب؟
أتستطيع بعد ليل طويل و حزين

، و بارد
أن تعطي أطفالنا قبلة و تعدهم

بالجنة
هدية عند المساء؟
أتستطيع بعد عمر طويل و حزين

، و بارد
أن تبادلني التحية
تحية جسد واحد و روح واحدة
.و موت واحد

و من الغريب ما عجب

اليوم الغريب في قاموسي
هو اليوم الذي يخلو من المواضيع
و في حياتي البنفسجية
كل الأيام مشبعة بالقصص و السفن الدوارة

...
احتار في اللحظات الغريبة

...
ماذا اشعر و بماذا افكر

:)

شجار

كم اتعبتني
حمقاء انتي

يا صاحبة
المقاييس، كلك مزدوجة

ارجو ان لا اراك ابدا
جعلتني استعجل السفرَ

كل التوفيق
و الحمد لله

رحلات القلب

اعشق البدايات ، كمن يتنفس لأول مرة و يشعربالجسد و مقوماته

ولهذا لست ممن يتقاعسون لاغنيات الصباح

كيف يا ترى سأبدء نهاري في الصين ؟ هل ستعيدني فيروز الى لبنان، الأردن ام كندا؟

ذكريات من طفولة

...اجمل لحظات اللقاء
ابتسامتك الغير مساومة، بشفافيتها
تنبثق من جذور كريمة
طويلة المدى، رشيقة
ناعمة، ندية

و افضل الصفات لابتسامة زرقاء يمامتي
رقصها للفالس مع العيون--
عناقها الحميم للخدود--
و تسابق التجاعيد من حولها--
لرواية القصص و حكايات العمر

نهاية قصة شجاعة

كالرياضة الصباحية
ارى نفسي كل يوم
في نفس الساعة
في نفس المكان
قهوة على يميني
سيجارة ان تطلب الامر
ورقة, قلم
انا و انت

اشعر "بنا" اكثر
حين لا الامسك
افهمك اكثر
حين لا اسمعك
استمتع بعلاقتنا اكثر
عن بعد
أليس هذا الوضع المثالي؟

لدي الحب و الوحي
لديك عشرات, لا, ألوف النساء
لدي نفسي, بلا جنون
لديك الواقع, بلا تراجيدية

بدايات النهار

انا وتلك القطة
نواسي بعضنا
على شرفة بيت
اسمها, سميتها
مفن, muffin
الرفيق المثالي
--لانسانة من هدوء
على الأقل, في الصباح

ما أجمل اشعة الشمس
المكلفة نفسها
بطبع القبل على وجهي
الرفيق المثالي
--لانسانة من سقيع
على الأقل, في الربيع

انه للوقت المثالي
لترك الشرنقة ببطء
لخوض معركة الولادة
من جديد

بالنسبة للحزن و المحزنون

اشعر بودية معينة للحزناء
لا اعلم لماذا
تعجبني العيون التي مات ضوئها
لا اعلم لماذا
احب ان تكون مواساتهم مستحيلة
افضل الجلوس معهم في الامسيات الهادئة
اشعر بأيديهم اكثر حين تكون مثلجة
استمتع بصوتهم الخفي ضائع المسار
اريد مضاجعتهم و سكوتهم المضجر

في ذات الوقت
اظن اني مهوسة بعلاجهم
بسماع اخفت انواع الأمل منهم
اتمنى الحياة و السعادة لهم
اعمل بجد على ابهارهم
ابحث عن قطع غيار تناسبهم

وفي لحظة ولادتهم المنتظرة
حين يرون الحياة كالمراهقين من جديد
يتسابقون على الفرص كالجوعى
و احترق لخسارة اولادي العاقى

Upon receiving a deadly message I thought:

اجلس في الخارج
على اريكتي المفضلة
مع اشعة الشمس المنتظرة
طيور المدينة ضائعة الحال
و حالي من حالها معك

اريد المستحيل مثلها
ان ارجع الى الماضي
قبل الضجيج قبل الانسان
قبل البنايات و انتحار الاشجار

السيارات تمر و الناس الى اشغالهم
وشغلي منتظر رد المكالمات
من اين لي ان اكون من هذا العالم
لأرغب بغد افضل, اكبر, اكثر

انا كطيور المدينة مهجرة من بيئتي
اغرد و لا احد يفهمني
اضعت طريق النحل
لغتي لحني و حبيبي

يا اصحابي في مملكة الذبان
بعد اقتسامكم لحم جثماني
ردوني الى زمن النسيان
ميلو الى مسقط رأسي
زورو بلادا تعبد الشمس و الرمان

و طالما دمتم على هذا المشوار
آتيكم بالشكر و أوراق من الأشعار
اجدتم فاصقتم عني هذي الأجنحة
لأن لا نفع للكتابة من بعد القبر
و لا نفع للطيران في الظلمة

Inspired by Darwish's poetry as sung by تصبحون على وطن _مارسيل خليفة

عندما يصحو البوم انهض
اكف النهار عني و اطير
اسقي نومي باحلام المستحيل
و اشرب الممكن من نهدي


ابسط اجنحتي افك قيودي
ادق مع تموج موسيقى القلبٍ
و اغمض عيناني مؤمن ان الحياة ستدفعني
وان كان للامكان فهدا وعدي

Easterisms

I am going to church today. To my lady of lebanon downtown. I have not stepped into a church for 5 years. During that period, I have been vehemently blasphomous.

Disclaimer: this does not mean I am Christian. I am merely using the church for my purposes, which would make me a christian accoring to this definition, lol, but im still disclaiming that I am not. Being a catholic christian entails accepting that jesus, the son of god, died on the cross and rose from the dead to forgive our sin. For me it is not a matter of believing that story or another, but instead it is the issue of not caring to care for either or for the consequences imagined for either. I would rather focus on other material and political issues that surround religion, as an institution. I am a social scientist and obsessed with noting the trajectories of power.

But, being human, I ask, what is it about returning to old songs (ان شاء الله القمحة الي انزرعت بقلوبنا) or old smells (بخور) that makes it ok for dem 'social "Scientists" ' to participate in crazy rituals?

Why did it take me so long to admit in public that I am an Arab with Christian family? What is so shameful about liking christian songs (which I thought up to now that I didn't)?

I think I have been obsessed by changing my own politics and convincing my family and friends that I am totally dedicated to an anti-imperialist socialist project that it became important to represent myself as an emotionally awake but religiously amnesiac person. This sucks! and now that I am dedicated to a no-bullshit project (more on that later), I am interested in the truth as I see it now and the truth is that I still cry to some christian songs that remind me of my childhood and that it is fucking ok to go to church and that this does not have to be a secret mission. It has never been cool to be a christian arab, which is how i was read as i grew up in jordan. I will not accept disclaiming all my life to preserve those sanctified images of an activist or social thinker.

Disclaimers aside, no shame, I am going to church. Wish me luck