عاد البطل..فرح ..فخر..شوق يتراقصون بقدوم البطل
شوق ما بعده شوق لرؤية عيون البطل
عيون جريئة ،شجاعة ،عميقة تحمل في طياتها قصص عن النصر ،عن الصبر،عن القهر و عن الخير و الشر
و قصص عن الامل..أمل لا يكتمل بلا بطل
الكل احتفل بالبطل..الا هنا..في غربتي لا يعلم احد بوجود بطل
نعم في غربتي.. غربة الاسلام في بلد الاسلام
غربة العروبة في مهد العروبة
مكبلة انا هنا ..لا املك سوى قلم يذرف دموع قهري و فرحي
تمنيت لو اني في ارض اخرى
مع بشر اخرين..بشر يكترثون لحال امتي
في مكان اخر لا اسمع فيه صدى هتافاتي..
و لن اتمنى اكثر بعد اليوم..فالامنيات ملت و الصمت ضجر
غريب حال امتي..
فيها بطل شجاع
يضحي بروحه
لا يعرف سوى حياة تسر الصديق
او ممات يغيظ العدى
..و اخر لا يعرف سوى الاسف والاستنكار
و اخر لا يعرف شيء
تحية اجلال و فخر لوالدي السقا البطل
تحية عز و كرامة لكل بطل
انحني و ازف كل شهيد بطل
و كل عام و في امتي ابطال
وكل عام و ابطال امتي بازدياد..

غدير أبو شوارب السقا / الرياض

A translation of my Arabic Letter to Father on board of Freedom Flotilla for non-Arabic speakers only!

“Even when on vacation, you always answered my calls.The international satellite phone, which you bought after consulting me about its technological usefulness, was my last hope for contact. But it too could not withstand Zionist atrocities. You are now somewhere between international waters and Ashdod and we are yet to know your fate.

I still recall the first demonstration we attended together during the first Intifada. It was a very cold and wet day as we walked through Al-abdaly to Al Hussieni mosque. I was barely able to read the protest signs but I remember chanting along with you. My feet froze that day and my mother blamed you for that. That made you smile.

I am curious to know the story of your trip. But I will wait until your return to hear it. In the meantime, let me tell you what is going on in the outside world: The loudest sounds of support and solidarity for you and the many other heroic activists on the Gaza Freedom Flotilla is the sound of silence from Arab officialdom. The silence is deafening, making us wish we were Turks too.

Islam is my father – that principle is deeply embedded in me. But the situation of Muslims the world over is not pleasing. I feel despair. But there is also hope in the stances of the brave heroic men and women with you. I am inspired by footage aired on Al Jazeera. I see you raising your hands, promising victory and return.

We stand in solidarity with our Palestinian brothers and sisters, protesting the brutal occupation and the inhumane siege. But your participation in the Gaza Freedom Flotilla has made us, your family, taste some of the pain Palestinians experience in Gaza. While I am overwhelmed with the power of Israeli media and its Zionist allies’ spin on your brave encounter, I am also empowered by the breathing spaces created by alternative media resources which tell a different story.

There are many more stories awaiting your safe return. I look forward to sharing them with you. Please do not make the grammatical errors in this piece our first story! J

You have made us all proud.

Eagerly awaiting your safe return,

Yaman (your son)”

والدي العزيز،

حتى في أبعد أسفارك وأطولها لم تكن إلا لترد على مكالمتي. ومع العلم أن هاتفك “الثريا” – الذي حرصت على أخذه معك بعد مشاورتك “التكنولوجية” لي قبل انطلاقك – كان ملاذي الأخير إلا أنه لم يسلم من الصهاينة و ها أنت الان بين مياه البحر اﻷبيض المتوسط الدولية و ميناء أسدود دون أن نعرف ما تمر به.

ما زلت أذكر يوم ذهبنا في جمعة شديدة البرد والمطر في مسيرة الانتفاضة الأولى من العبدلي إلى الجامع الحسيني وكان طول قامتي حينها بالكاد يساعدني على قراءة “اليافطات” ولكني لم أنفك أردد “خيبرخيبر يا يهود، جيش محمد سوف يعود” ولكنك صححتني وجعلتني أردد “جيش محمد بدأ يعود”. أصابني في ذلك اليوم “صقيع الأقدام” حتى لامتك والدتي الحنون ولكن ذلك دعاك للابتسام و “غمزتني”.

يغمرني الفضول لأعرف قصة رحلتك ولكن مع انقطاع الاتصال سوف أنتظر عودتك. في المقابل سأنقل لك ما يحدث خارج السفينة. أعلى صوت هب لنصرتك ومن معك من الأبطال هو صوت الصمت العربي الذي أصبح ينقر في فخرنا بالعروبة ويجعلنا نتمنى لو كنا أتراكاً في هذه اللحظة. ما زال مبدأ “أبي الاسلام لا أبا لي سواه” ساكنا في داخلي ولكن حال المسلمين لا يبشر بخير لكن لا تيأس فالعديد من الشرفاء ما زالو يقفون مواقف الرجال حتى وان لم يكونوا من صناع القرار. في خضم ذلك تأتي صورة لك على قناة الجزيرة وأنت ترفع سبابتك معلناً الشهادة في بداية رحلة “أسطول الحرية” حتى تعلمنا أن جيش محمد قد عاد فعلاً.

مهما كان حماسنا في مناصرة شعب فلسطين الشقيق سواء في حرب غزة أوالحصار المفروض عليهم فإن وجودك في “الواجهة” هذه الأيام جعلنا نتذوق القليل مما يشعر به إخواننا. وما زلت مذهولا بضعف نفوذنا الاعلامي وقوة عدونا سواء في اعطاء قضايانا حيزا اعلاميا يليق بحجمها وأهميتها أو إيصال صورة غير منحازة (لأي طرف) ولكن الاعلام البديل على الانترنت كان بمثابة المتنفس للتعبير على مستوى عالمي – وإن لم يصل صداه سياسياً بقوة “اللوبي” اليهودي الذي قدم قبل قليل رسالة إلى الكونغرس الأمريكي يشرح له مأساته!

هنالك المزيد من “السواليف” لأخبرك بها وأرجو أن لا تبدأ ردك بتصحيح قواعد اللغة في الرسالة

لقد شرفت جبهتك ومن معك من أحرار هذا العالم

بانتظارك

يمان

It’s been exactly a year to date since I last posted; a series of unlucky and mis-fortunate events started off when I got too occupied with work to follow up on domain renewal. Then when I actually noticed the crisis my registrar happened to have a problem with the whole-sale domain dealer and my domain was lost in between. It took 7 months of follow-up to finally get it back!

Jack and Max are attending a religious service.
Jack wonders whether it would be all right to smoke while praying.
Max replies, “Why don’t you ask the Priest?”
So Jack goes up to the Priest and asks, “Priest, may I smoke while I pray?”
But the Priest says, “No, my son, you may not. That’s utter disrespect
to our religion.”
Jack goes back to his friend and tells him what the good Priest told him.
Max says, “I’m not surprised. You asked the wrong question. Let me try.”
And so Max goes up to the Priest and asks, “Priest, may I pray while I
smoke?”
To which the Priest eagerly replies, “By all means, my son, by all means.”

Language is a toolbox, know your audience and pick the right tool.

The other day I happened to open the Sports part of the newspaper, which I, honestly, only open by coincidence! An article caught my attention which was reporting a German Sociologist carrying out a study on the stress goalkeepers go through. That struck me for a second; how interesting! The article also alludes to a story by Peter Hendke Die Angst des Tormanns beim Elfmeter in which a goalkeeper commits a horrible mistake that gets him kicked out of the game and has him end up spending the night with one of the girls selling tickets at the door, he then proceeds to strangle her the next morning! Thinking anger management? That’s what I thought too.

Well, I could care less about goalkeepers in particular; however, I have always been curious about the life of others that we see or hear about but don’t really get the chance to dig into. This researcher for example has done similar studies on cops, bodybuilders, and house wives. I like those that take this even further. Movies like 8mm for example, giving insight into the underworld of the porn industry, Blow exploring the life of a real drug lord El mahico, and recently Lord of Wars revealing the life of an arms dealer.

So let’s see how this is like: seeing, better yet feeling with, the life of an(other). Imagine waking up in the morning and instead of having your cereal/pancake/”zait w za3tar” you start munching on an 8 Oz. steak, Kabseh, or Mansaf. You get in your car and morning traffic is gone, not particularly gone, but is on the other side of the road. No your’e not a loner! Then as you go into your office people are packing off and leaving. Weird. You finish up your 9++ hours and on your way home, the city is more of a ghost town. You try calling a couple of friends to hang out, but hey, no body is answering as they’re all, unlike you, working the graveyard shift, asleep! My weekdays in a nutshell!

It’s been a hobby of mine until I got my current job where I barely get to do the things I like “outside” work. This year I’m determined to carry on with this. Soaring. This past Friday marked the coming-back. For those who don’t know: a glider (or a sailplane) is an aeroplane without an engine that takes off with the help of a winch or another plane and once airborne it’s a game of finding up-currents (mainly caused by hot air rising) to gain altitude. It is so much fun and excitement. Currently I’m learning the principles of control. It’s not that easy, there are so many things to pay attention to (too detailed to mention here) yet it all comes down to “feeling” with the plane and dynamics of air. I fly at the Royal Jordanian Glding Club, if any body is interested in a trip let me know.

As we grow up and create our own universe we get more and more detached from family activities (may be until we start our own, but I’m not there yet!); things we used to do when we were little, which at some point of time was all we’ve got. I’m not sure why … is it that we consider them a lower priority over work or friends (peers as a psychiatrist would put it), or is it that they just “seem” less mature now.

One of those activities my father had always made a Friday ritual: He’d fill the car with kids “me and my brothers” and the trunk with every supply we might need; food, water, jackets .. etc – and he’d hit the road … just drive.

I tell you what, it was fun, then. Well, only then. May be still fun! That’s what last Friday revealed. I really had nothing to do on that day and did not refuse the offer of joining along with the “younger” brothers. No regrets. I’m not able to describe the feeling, is it the rejoice of belonging, spending time with loving parents and energy charged siblings, or maybe being away after a long week of work, or just the green scenary accompanying the road trip. Yes, food was good too: “Armenian sfee7a”!

Enough of the analysis right now, here are some of the most interesting snapshots of that particular Friday .. pretty much self explanatory: