Life is a miracle

Imagine to hold up a balloon for a whole day with your bare hands , taking it with you wherever you go , sleeping with it , eating with it and working with it. It is tough ha?

Then imagine mothers ,they hold their fetus until they become babies for nine months with all troubles , physical changes and pain. Then a little angel comes to the world and mothers mercifully go through it again with another baby. Going through that painful moment only to give birth , a gift , a soul to the world. Indeed, it is miraculous to see a little head comes out with life scream. Moreover, it is a blessing to feel the bond of its mother around with her warmth. It was growing inside her and then growing beside her with all difficulties on his first teeth , first step , first day of school, first challenge , first graduation and first love. Or when his dad calls Athan on his ears gently and peacefully to give him hints of his spiritual life by whispering GOD's name to his little ears.All in all, as life is a miracle, it is a spinning process , then that little baby , becomes a man ,a husband and a father on one life miracle!



Thanks GOD for life miracle !

From a school bench to dust

As a teacher going to the class with the same burdens everyday , leaving all what belongs to the world at the first step to the school. She went to sign and wait for her class to start when a voice called her informing her about "Amal" , her student , that she passed away before yesterday due to Dengue fever. There were two Amals in the class and she did not know which "Amal" passed away.

She went with great shock wondering whoever Amal passed away , hope has passed away. She passed away , leaving her bench empty for another student to fill as she was another number in the class. Another number in the family that when this number is alive, parents do all they can to save that number, and when it dies , the number is seemingly forgotten and buried under dust.

Amal was not a number , but she was a hope of her house that shines with hope. Moreover, there are many Amals in each house and within each family , that we hope and wish them long life.


We do not blame Dengue as it might have come as salvation of all kinds of suffering that Amal had. We only grief and mourn as she was taken as a young flourishing flower. And strongly give condolences and finally let it go when our Amal is hidden in a small hole wearing white as a bride and taken to real heaven.

I am sorry Amal we could not save you , but sure I am that you are in the best place now. We could not cure you as we were suppose to nor did we take care of you as we are helpless. However, you do not need our help now , as you are in GOD's hands.

Let it be

Standing alone with much confidence , facing the power of the sun in a challenging mood. With solid look and strong desire to say a sentence : it is not , look I am here , neither it is I am unbeaten. Simply , it is my right to express my presence ,even if you think the sun will burn me , winds will blow me up and even if you think that I will end up alone as my thoughts are weird. Let me taste failure and success and light as well as darkness. You do not have to protect me in stores and hide me from exposure. I simply need to be exposed to bitter and sweet so that I can really differentiate and taste. Let me stand by my own as you do not have to cuff my hands and tighten my freedom and I truly promise you that I will never let you down .

Two ragged seats

This time, there are two seats, closer to earth and proud-headed to the sky. They seem to be together, but without any touch. Both are stubborn, wooden minded, tough ,concrete and opposing each other. You find no intimacy between them not even around them. Laying to the wall not to each other and hurt with scratches in dignity. They wish to confess to each other and break boundaries, yet they can not break the ice between them. Although they face each other, they can not look into each others face. Open arms, but not able to hold and hug nor can give a tapping condolence. Wooden, but not able to give warmth and old, but not tolerant. Light and brightness gild the whole surrounding, but not them. They are miserable as two old rapped couple who have nothing to live for and much to envy others about.Hatred eats their hearts and minds and does not leave little love to justify why they are still with each other.

Orange Bench

An Orange wooden bench standing between the green branches and the wooden fence,
Telling stories of love, life and abandon

A story of a gray-hair couple who sits close to each other on that Orange wooden bench,Their hands are held together as if they are newlyweds
Their hands are held together because one of them lost sight but not love
He goes, walks with his hand in hers, he wears no black lenses glasses nor he has a stick,He has his hand held with hers for years, forever and even while they are sitting on the Orange wooden bench

Or a story of another couple with fresh sparkling rings in their fingers,
Her head lies on his shoulder while they are sitting on the Orange wooden bench,
Wondering about when the sun will go down then rise again,
When tomorrow becomes today,How many tomorrows they will share
And how many yesterdays they will pass by

Or a story of a person put his name on the Orange wooden bench years ago and comes back to find it, Yet it is covered with layers of Orange fur,
His name was forgotten, but the Orange wooden bench never erased his name.

Common Sharing

A sofa, fainting light, bright curtains and three cups of coffee. The place pictures a mocha scent with its warm feeling personifying that far away place, beyond dozens of thousands of miles and boarders. Although people are different, they are alike. Some choose to be alone in corners, with windows aside, hoping that through them, someone would shine. Some others choose little light under shady trees while the weather needs no shade. And some travel through time and wires with sifts of coffee along the way.
Still that sofa captures my mind with its emptiness. It fits two, a couple. Their minds are different but attached. Or it fits a broken hearted person in need of two arms to hold. However, the sofa has two arms, they do not hold as human do. It can only tap on his back with warmth.
Both, the sofa and him give condolences and accompany each other to occupy that someday someone would fill in the space inside them.

A Kite

A linoleum kite was held by a kid, flying like any other kite. The only difference was because it was not made of paper or plastic. Its pillars were made of uneven sticks. Its thread was short as the kid does not want to let it go. Simple kite carries meanings in the right side of the road, between trucks and mini cars.

Innocence of kids creates innovations with tiny fingers and great minds. The kite flew on the same level as the kid's head and half of it was torn as winds were stronger than what the linoleum can bear. Still the kid holds the kite as he holds hope that it will fly as he runs. As he runs faster, winds penetrate the kite's body and make it look as if bullets got through it. Then, it surrounds as flying pieces. The kid slows down and looks at it with tearful eyes. He buries the remaining wrecks of the kite next to him in his home under the cartoon roof.

The kid wakes up in a new day and thinks to make a new hope, kite, but this time will be made of his roof. It will be made of cartoon to resist winds. And tomorrow he makes it from tree leaves and after tomorrow he is going to try with plastic bags and the day after who knows. He will only try to make his own hope that lasts for a day.

Survival Trip

Dear Brother
Please allow me to share your story with the whole world so that people will learn lessons .
With lots of love ,,,,

Here we are about to approach a real successful story of survival, challenge, courage, faith and hope achievements. As this story is real, our hero is real, too. He is one of many who succeeded in adapting the refuge through the solidarity of people, the flexibility to reach self-adjustment and determination. Through the story, we would pass by memories of survival, childhood, trip towards the refuge, struggling to accept the new home, challenging with getting education and living on by tracing the beams of future hopes. Allow me to raise his dairy's voice in the coming few lines.

Oh my dear dairy, you know, I will tell you what I dreamed last night. I saw my parents and they both were extremely happy as if they are satisfied and proud of me. Sometimes, I wish that I could reverse the time to see them again, yet I can. Although both of them were gone, I am still blessed. I started my days with great prayer from auntie who cooks for me with her delicious meals every morning, day and night. Uncle Passed away and I really felt gloomy because this is the second father I loose. Any way my dear dairy this is Life, it has to continue.

My life does not differ from any other refugee in Kharaz camp or in any other camps around the world, but luckily I am one of few fortunate individuals who are blessed to be surrounded by kind and supportive people and weaponed with knowledge and education as well as strong belief in change.

What a struggle to live in a conflict in a divided city with 24 hours curfew. War has eaten all what is not to be eaten and yet never stops. Each family was in danger of killing from the other part of the city, the other tribe just because it is the other one. Mom and dad crossed that line and united the two tribes as they got married. However, it never stopped. It increased the conflict and dad was the victim. As a child from the other tribe living with mom's tribe, everyone dealt with me as if I should have never been born. As if I was a sin. Therefore, I was beaten, humiliated and I faced death several times that led my terrified mom to send me away to another city since she could not join me in that journey and live her tribe.

The new city was peaceful. Therefore, I thought of writing to mom to encourage her to come and I did. But my letter returned as it was because the war started all over and no letters were to be delivered. I wanted to tell that we can go to a safer place, to Yemen where peace occurs as air and sun. I had to go alone on that journey after I got no reply for my letters sent by the Red Cross. It was painful to turn my back to my land and mom at the same time, but I had to do that in order to survive. I left Somalia with no knowledge if mom was alive of not. Nevertheless, she brought me to life thus I can not give up her gift of life and should continue loving her alive or dead.

My story started when the destiny threw my weak body in the risk of sailing through deep and mysterious waters in a journey of survival , leaving all my bloody memories and my mom behind and reaching unknown shores and knowing no one ,but myself and my goal. The destiny assigned a brother in the journey who shared almost the same bloody memories and accompanied me in the journey of survival. And we promised ourselves to be together in order to support one another.

I started to work as a volunteer in the clinic of Geheen camp and studied English in the evening. Even in the unknown land, GOD assigned another brother and a family: he treated us as younger brothers and took the responsibility of taking care of us. It did not stop in this step, but when the refugees were transferred to Kharaz camp, he went to Sana'a and assigned his sister to take care of us .She took the role of the mother and her husband was the father. I am still living with them and wish to continue having this family that I always dreamed of.

During my stay in Kharaz Camp, I was and still am inspired by Kharaz library keeper. This man taught me the blessing of survival and wisdom of life. Whenever I visited him, I found him burrying his face between pages and wearing his glasses, his eyes lost between lines and enjoying every letter. Life twisted him and made him alone with his son in the camp. However, when you go to the library and see him, you personify hope as if it is a living person, greeting you, talking to you in proper Arabic and holding hope as a golden key chain in an empty pocket. This man, died last year as a stranger in Aden hospital living a legacy of nothing but wisdom and hope.

I had no chance to get to college since the competition was furious. However, I tried and I did not get it. But, there is always another day, another tomorrow to hold and another sunrise we can count on. Out of no where, a rich guy came to the camp and all of the sudden decided to give away scholarships for a double number of what was offered before. I was, as usual lucky and blessed enough to get accepted and again fate is on my side.

Everyday, I feel blessed. Waking up in the morning, having my breakfast with mom and walking to work. I pass by the camp's alleys, greeting people and seeing the innocent smiles of the kids that have a hope for a better tomorrow.

Still I have dreams to fulfill: pursing my higher education, having reunion with mom, and helping all people who supported me from the very beginning of my journey: the journey of survival. This experience will be stuck in my mind and I am going to tell this story to my children and grandchildren to teach them how to have a positive image of life to continue and succeed when few people only succeed.

Divorced Women

It is a journey in courts’ lobbies in Yemen where you can find dozens of females in raw and in black waiting to hear the sentences. It is a simple sentence that each one of them is highly and fully in need of. Also, it is the sentence that will set her free from the nightmare of an invisible man to the shadow of the social stigma of divorce. Different stories have been told, different types of violence have been committed behind the closed doors, but the same fate goes on and on.

This journey reminds me of the dark ages of women when young girls were hidden into the sand by fathers fearing poverty and loss of social status. However, in our days, divorced women are the burden of their families. They simply want to hide them as if they committed a crime of being divorced. They would rather stay as old wrecks of ships until they die, better than being caged as wild creatures.

GOD legislated divorce as a solution provided that couples cannot bare living together under certain conditions. In our society, it is a death sentence for any woman. Moreover, even if she wants to start all over again, she would be excluded and surrounded by assumptions, claims and stereo tapes about the reason she was divorced as if it is not a shared practice of both man and wife. Furthermore, in some cases, she would be prevented from mingling with other women claiming that she would corrupt other females ethically. Therefore, under uncertain and, growing number of cases, we find those women out of the right track.

I fully admit that the latter lines were gloomy, unfair and realistically hurting. However, sometimes the truth is more painful and words are useless towards it. We all know that it is-divorce- a must in some cases and a need in others. And we all know that men continue life after divorce, but women are stigmatized, harassed, abused and left out without any kind of support from society.

I am not against men nor am I a women advocate. It is just a matter of humanity that divorced women have the right to live and try again to flip the coin and seek normal life, or at lease to be reintegrated to the society through programs and projects that reinforce their self-confidence and regain and collect their strengths.

Little Angels

It used to be the norm to find marginalized people begging in the streets, but what are phenomena is to see angel-faced kids roaming between cars, selling water, tissues or souvenirs with couples of Rials leaving schools and supporting families. On the same street and when the traffic signal changes its color into furious red, they start the battle with car drivers and when it turns to green, they hurry to the side walk. This scene is more or less as the waves when they sculpture curves into the rock shores and run into the sea bringing more splashes.

Kids, who grew up before time, know how to race to big fancy cars rather than racing with mates in the park. They know how to hide from police officers rather than playing hide and seek in the yard. And they learn how to count money till thousands when their mates at school count until tens with cubes, boards and chalks.

They are intelligent, but what kind of future is awaiting them when they have no hope in the streets. Their identity is emerged within car horns and offenses of street passengers. And with all claims of human rights, those kids have lost their rights not even as kids not even as animals that when they die, a grave is not considered as their right.

However they are unwanted, they keep insisting on living. Their innocent desire to gain couples of rails to feed a dozen of siblings and disable parents crosses all laws. Efforts to help them are not well addressed, but they are mentioned in proposals as future taken actions or plans or more genuinely on the imaginary agenda as they are not considered as other citizens.

As kids are future generation, we should spare some hope and much help to change the reality. As the old saying, we cannot save the whole humanity, however we can save one life at a time. With collaborative efforts, a gradual change will probably take place. Hey policy makers! Come down a little bit , give your ears to their stories and more descent attention to their situation as you pass by them everyday.

Karma

I thought of writing in several topics, but what attracted my attention the most is the power of giving and helping. Few years ago, I was unaware of how giving and helping can influence people's relationships and how it changes lives and attitudes.

It started when I joined the agency I am working with.Many vulnerable people and empathetic stories I had to hear and translate transferring pain into written context so that people would get some bits of life as food and in kind assistance. During that time, I wondered how we can help the increasing number of needy people cope with life in the new land. Therefore I had to dwell into their stories to identify the need, understand it and find ways to fight it.

I was inspired the most with a lady who works with us as an office cleaner. She is very well-behaved, helpful and proud even though she belongs to the refugees' community. Whenever an individual needy person comes seeking assistance, she hurries to get him or her water, calms him or her and eases the burden he or she might feel. Once, I visited her in her place and was surprised that she was living with her extended family in a two rooms- wooden house. Plus, I discovered that she adopted two girls and raises them up as their mother died. I was in her humble place surrounded by generosity and love that I never found in any other place. This lady is a great example of how to be rich in giving and helping others.

I used to believe that you can not give away something unless you own it. However, working with refugees taught me that there are many things to be given and there are many people in need of those things desperately. Some people would feel that givers are stupid and easy to be fooled. Therefore, they just want to use them and exploit them and just forget about them once they are done with their benefits. However, givers never wait or expect a reward or a payback. It is a spontaneous self-directed action. It is just being happy to make others feel happy.

Once, I asked my mentor about the good things that happen to me and about my zero-frustration status. She replied "it is Karma. You have done well to people somewhere, sometime in the past, and good deeds never forget you".

A date

Few days ago, a friend of mine invited me to a day date. As a result, with no second thought, I totally agreed. The next morning, I woke up very early heading to work to finish up everything and leave early as the excuse was college issues. Of course, it was an early April fool. Any ways, I got out of my office heading to my college, but it was just for the gate of that college where my friend and I agreed to meet. It was a day with no sun, but the heat and humidity killed the cloudy weather. However, it did not attack our desire to have a date.

It was a date, but with no wine, fancy meals or a Limo car. We headed to the mysterious village that we never knew its existence with a descent guide that we never met in person before. Rented a cap and went on our trip to the village.

We drove a long unpaved way with many ups and downs and pedestrians, or to be more precise hitch hiker students, willing to go to school or get back from school. Finally we reached the village.

Quite, serene and simpler than the word simple is that village. Greenish spaces scattered all over the place with curved and again unpaved roads. Moreover, the houses were small with domestic animals and unshaped fences that are made from everything a person can not imagine.

And then we reached to the school while no student was there. It is located at the edge of the village with no sign of educational property. It is still on progress to be built as the guide stated. Still we were much in need to know more. Therefore, our next place was the so-called health center. Ironically, it was closed with a ruined metallic gate that is locked as a haunted house. Obviously, there were no doctors, no facilities as if they do not need medical treatment.

Finally, we reached the end of that DATE and personally I was amazed by the contradiction of life in one city, between a village that is surrounded by quietness and a speedy city, between living with no facilities ,but with stacked hope and with full optioned facilities and yet tiny hope. As long as we are alive, hope is there to guide even if we chose not to make it a vision, still it is there.