Manal is in her mid-twenties, an active, passionate and smart young woman. Yemeni, she holds a University degree from the Faculty of Arts in Sanaá in English literature and, indeed, she masters perfect English. The feeling you have when you talk to her, see her moving around, watch her dealing with people and friends, isContinue reading “Manal, a light for thousands of Yemeni disabled”
December 5, 2013
Before the bombs and the fights Before us entertaining the children with popcorn and fried bread to keep them away from the failures of humankind. Before the broken glasses and the replacement of windows. Before us mourning the friends we lost and the ones who became so after reading their stories on the papers Before theContinue reading “December 5, 2013”
Elena
My dead people usually never talk to me. They never appear, guide me. They never even smile to me, in my dreams. Once my people leave, they leave for something like forever. The rest of my lifetime without them is the eternity I face. Last time we met was in the 90s, just before Christmas. WeContinue reading “Elena”
Picture
It is unlikely we meet again any time soon. You will not call me on a Friday morning to arrive at my house with baskets of food and sauce to cook spaghetti together. You trusted only my skills of boiling water. All the proper food came from you. Already cooked. We would speak our broken motherContinue reading “Picture”
Those who help
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there areContinue reading “Those who help”
You are there, in my war frame
They sent me this picture of you, Tnseem. I filed it in ‘My World’ folder. You are smiling. At last I see you smile. I am sure before the war started, our paths had crossed ways. We must have met on the stairs or during Eid. Or on a Friday, weekend day, when you used to come andContinue reading “You are there, in my war frame”
One day someone dressed beautifully
Maybe it’s not in the city. Maybe it’s in the villages, down the valleys, behind the rocks. close to the sea, behind a water-fall where freedom happens. Freedom to use what you have, combine the colours, the fabrics, plaid the wool as if it were your hair-dome, weave a basket hat, match a yellow scarf with blue andContinue reading “One day someone dressed beautifully”
In a village, one day
One day, passing by, someone took out the camera and the village girls started laughing. The picture is blurred, it’s shaky. The girls are in their country clothes. Time of the picture is unknown, as well as the author But the strength, the energy of the moment is still there. And it’s all in theContinue reading “In a village, one day”
Memoirs of a refugee still looking out of the same window
There is still a Country outlined by the routes of the ancient caravans of the merchants of pepper, coffee and frankincense, a Country equal to itself, a jewel shining of its own light century after century. A Country which has remained isolated being at the nib of the Arabic Peninsula, hence, preserving itself from theContinue reading “Memoirs of a refugee still looking out of the same window”
