منذ عام واحد فقط، لم اكن اعلم ان اكبر الانهيارات هي تلك التي لا تحدث اصواتا.. وتترك خلفها ضجيجا من الفراغ
رحلت ابي، لم تحدث كثيرا من الجلبة وانت تذهب، رحلت بهدوء وسكينة..كعادتك دائما
لم يزل جرحي ينبض كل يوم يا ابي..مع كل فنجان شاي صباحي لم تصنعه انت ارتشف مرارة غيابك.. وعلى انغام كل أغنية كنت تفضلها يتردد صدى صوتك العذب في ذاكرتي
اشتقتك ابي.. انا ابنتك المفضلة لطالما قرأت ذلك في عينيك حتى عندما كنت تحاول اخفاء ذلك عن الجميع.. ولا تزال تلك الابتسامة المميزة، ابتسامة الفخر المطلقة، تشع في ذاكرتي نورا عندما يشتد سواد الحزن ظلاما
في هذا العام تعلمت يا ابي ان الانسان لا يموت فعلا الا عندما تمحى ذكراه بين الناس.. وانت ما زلت حيا بيننا، ما زلنا نردد اقوالك ونضحك عندما نتذكر قصصك و”نغص” عندما نأكل اكلتك المفضلة
احبك ابي، اليوم اكثر مما مضى، وبعد عام على غيابك اشد الرحال لاستقبل حفيدا لم يسعفه الحظ ليلقاك.. ساغني له اغنياتك واروي بعضا من قصصك واخبره عن جد كان يتوق لتدليله.. ورحل باكرا
كل عام وانت حبيبي.. دائما
It has been a long time since I thought about my feelings for the troublesome city I live in..
Today, I decided I still love my Tripoli.
Passing through its streets, I felt how lucky I was to be part of its insignificant background..
My Tripoli, the city of ancient history, where you could walk into to a mosque that was built thousands of years ago, or down the streets into markets that served sultans…
My Tripoli, the city of amazing familiarity, where you could easily identify faces, where everyone knows everyone or is related to someone who knows them..
My Tripoli, the city of simple joys, where the special taste of a kaakeh is addictive ,where you know which store sells the best sweets and which offers the cheapest, yummiest Felafel..
My Tripoli, the city of sparkling beauty, where the tempting sea lazily hugs the length of its shores, and is always a few minutes away..
My Tripoli, the city i was raised to love, the city i lived every sweet moment of my childhood in, the city where I met my best friends and where i know every corner, every building, every cafe.. well almost 🙂
I still love you my Tripoli.. All the efforts to make me forget what you mean will not work.. I know better..
I know that whatever happens, a few black clouds could not hide your glorious rays for long..
I know that whoever is trying to turn you into a war zone would only succeed if we let him..
I will always love you my Tripoli.. I promise!
لست رومنسية، ولا أدعي معرفة أو خبرة بالحب وأوجاعه وآهاته … لكني أرى أن زمننا ما عاد يصلح للحب
زمن انسانا فيه كفاح الحياة أن حلاوة العيش ليست في كمية الوقت الذي نمضيه بل فيم نمضي هذا الوقت
زمن طغت فيه أحزان أشد وطأة من حزن الفراق وهجران الحبيب.. زمن الحسرة
زمن ما عاد للكلمات فيه قيمة، ولا للافكار ولا للأحلام ولا للألتزام ولا للأخلاق
زمن أصبح بلا ذاكرة أو وفاء.. بلا انتماء أو عنفوان أو كرامة
زمن السطحية والمادية والقشور
زمن الأنحراف واللامبالاة
حقا .. لقدانتهى زمن الحب
فلا يلومنني أحد على اعتكافي …ما عاد للعاشقين الولهى مكان
I love teaching. I love my students. Every one of them! Even the ones I hate, I love! It’s a burden, but it’s true.
Each year, it’s a sense of loss I feel when I say goodbye to my class; and each year, I feel am losing a very important part of me!
I have a theory you see: I am positive that students can sense when they are loved. They respond to that, and the outcome is always amazing!
You feel the sense of accomplishment and triumph each time you play even the tiniest role in modeling a student’s mind and personality, because you know that even as the student is growing up and forgetting about you, he still has that part you gave him, that part of you.
This year’s gifts were sweet, all of them. But there’s always those precious ones that still make me smile whenever I think about them; not the gifts themselves, but the sweet words that went with them:
The note from a grade 5 student, was so sweet it almost made me cry (well my eyes did water up a bit!). He sweetly explained to me how much he loves me, using the terms he had learned in class this year.
Another made me laugh hard (it still does) because it was from a student in grade 8 (unusual I know) who tried to be a poet and said that joy enters his class whenever I did!!!
There’s that girl who wrote me a not saying she loves me as her mother and it feels great! even though she would grow and forget, even though she will not remember my name: I touched her soul!
A card and a small gesture meant the world to me and it came from two people I didn’t even teach!!
I am grateful, proud and happy. I am satisfied. I must have been doing something right to deserve this and it feels great!
There was a time in my youth,
When Islam was only a custom.
They said “say La Ilaha Illa Allah,..
And pray, you’ll go to Heaven.”
Ah, how simple, no struggle in this,
Just a word, and simple act.
Thereafter I’m absorbed in this world again,
With my ‘assured’ place in Paradise intact.
But this was not to be my fate
For ALLAH chose to guide my heart.
I learnt of a man who struggled so hard
When his mission was from the start.
The story of someone who had morals,
Spoke gently, kindness he knew.
Never fearing to say what’s right,
His conviction in ISLAM was true.
The touch of his hand was as soft as silk
To comfort a crying child.
To mend his clothes, or do the chores,
Never complaining, he always smiled.
A living he made with his bare hands,
The same that held his mighty sword.
Valour shone from the edge of his blade,
His smell was always of musk,
And cleanliness he kept at his best.
Stark contrast with the heroes of today,
Who stink of beer and sweat.
He held the hands of his companions.
Unashamed to play with many children.
So modest, so humble, a perfect example,
That strangers could not recognise him.
His eyes slept little for nights were precious,
His prayers he treasured much greater.
To pray Tahajjud in the depths of night,
Seeking forgiveness, and nearness to his Creator.
He broke his tooth for me at Uhud,
And bled for me at Ta’if.
He cried for me, tears of concern,
Just so I could have this belief.
His enemies admired his teachings,
Uniting every religion, every clan.
Till ISLAM came to every corner of the world,
O, but indeed he was only a man.
To own a house, or build his wealth
Was not his main priority.
To establish ISLAM was more essential,
To bring us under a Higher Authority.
Don’t you want him to plea for your case,
When before ALLAH-The Judge-you stand?
Don’t you wish to be around his fountain,
A burning desire to drink from his hand?
So I love him more than all creation,
My Leader, my Humble Prophet.
Muhammad (SAWS) was a mercy to all mankind,
And to me, he is **MY BELOVED!***
By: Ahmed M Hashim
Today was a great day at school. It’s the one day of the year when we take the time to celebrate being teachers, enjoying its rewards and basking in the warmth of gratitude..
This is actually the point: to feel cherished for everything you do, to feel valued and loved..
I remember when we used to wait for this day to give our favorite teacher a carefully chosen, sweetly wrapped gift to let her know how much we loved and cared, how much we appreciated.. It was something we planned eagerly for and we felt great joy reading the faces of our teachers and loving the way we affected them…
Today, I remembered all this when it was my turn to receive the gifts.. I felt saddened that no one takes the time to choose the gift anymore.. the gifts were all lovely, but so impersonal, so… Cold!
A grade six student personalized all his gifts: to each teacher, he chose what he knows she or he would like.. He gave me a necklace because he noticed I like to wear them, gave his English teacher earrings because she likes them.. He even chose a copper oriental vase for his history teacher!
But the greatest gifts any teacher would receive are heartfelt, honest words that can fill your heart with joy ( and your eyes with tears).
A grade five student, a lovely girl who’s new to the school, bought me a gift like her friends, but did not forget to add her personal touch: a sweet handmade card.
These things do affect us teachers, the words, the love, the appreciation.. It truly makes our day! Sometimes, a sweet word is all it takes!
من أجلك أنت.. أكتب بالعربيّة، أنت التي لطالما قرأتني دون الحاجة الى كلمات أصلاً
أحبك.. لست أدري ان كانت تلك الكلمة التي نستعملها طوال الوقت قد فقدت بريقها بالنسبة اليك أو اذا ما كانت تعبر باخلاص عما أكنه لكنني لا أملك سواها يوم ميلادك … أحبك
أحب يديك، تلك التي تحمل في كل زاوية، مع كل لمسة و في كل حركة اخلاصاً و تفانٍ
أحب عينيك، لا مهرب من تلك الساحرتين..لا مجال لتفادي فحصها الدقيق المفصّل أوسؤالها الصامت: “شو بك؟
أحب دفء حضنك القادر على مواساتي دائماً، وقلقك المتواصل علينا و ال”شو في؟” كلما سمعت صوتاً في الليل-حتى لو كنا نضحك
أحب شعور الامان الذي يغمرني كلما ودعتنا صباحاً أو انتظرتنا مساءً
أحب ابتسامتك التي تزين وجهك حتى في أحلك الظروف
أحب كيف علمت أولادك حب العائلة و الأخلاص لها و بر الوالدين ليس بالكلام الرنان بل بالفعل و القدوة الحسنة
أحب ما زرعت فينا من أخلاق واحترام.. أصبحت أعلم كم كان هذا صعباً
أنا أعلم أنك هبة الله لي ولكل من يعرفك وأحمد الله يومياً على وجودك في حياتي
أنا أعلم كم كنت (ولا أزال) صعبة المراس عنيدة وفي هذا اليوم المبارك اقول لك : سامحيني
عن كل كلمة قلتها يوماً وأذتك
عن كل لحظة سببت لك ازعاج أو أقلقت راحتك
عن كل ما فعلت أو ما لم أفعل مما لا يرضيك
شكراً لك..شكراً لأنك أنت … لأنّك أمّي…لأنك نانا
This is not a post about anyone else but myself.. This is only my point of view, I’m in no place to consider my words those of a sheikh, or a da3iya.. I’m just a muslim girl, proud to be that, and willing to share why..
I was born muslim of course, in that respect I was quite lucky. Discovering Islam was not so difficult or so outstanding.. I was raised to love the Prophet, to know his teachings and to worship Allah, the one and only God.
That is not why I’m muslim now, nor why I’m veiled.. In every person’s life comes this moment where he doubts everyone and everything.. especially those teachings he was raised to adore..
I will share this story because I think it was enough for me to decide I’m going to be muslim for the rest of my life.. It’s Him, His story, the story of our Prophet!
The first time we were told of his story, we were too young to understand its full meaning, too foolish to really appreciate its greatness..
Then, out of habit, all people used to repeat parts of it, just small shreds of greatness that served the purpose of their argument…
I, being a great reader, was intrigued to know more. I read a lot of books from different sources. Then I was able to know the full sides of His personality and character..
Our Prophet began his life as an orphan. His father died before he was born and his mother shortly after.. He was taken in by his grandfather who loved him greatly, but shortly after died too. Next, his guardian was his poor uncle who treated him gently but was too poor to provide for him. He had to work! He became a shepherd when he was too young.. But this was not it.. this is not why I admire my Prophet, why I love Him..
It was His impeccable character: his high ethics and sweet personality.. way before he was Prophet, he was known to be “Al Sadek, Al Amin” which translates to the honest and trustworthy..
I could tell you stories about his kindness in every aspect, his selfless acts, his wisdom…
I could tell you more about how he respected women, and ordered muslims to treat women right..
I could tell you how he won the hearts of people before he appealed to their logic..
I could tell you how he believed so hard in the message he carried that he endured all the harm and how he prevailed…
I could tell you how great a father he was, how faithful a husband, or how true a friend..
I could tell you so many things.. but I won’t..
I will only tell you about his humanity..
When he lost his loved ones, he grieved..
When his boy died, He was saddened..
When he felt lost, he desperately sought help from Allah..
When he wanted to decide something, he asked for opinions..
When he loved, he was jealous..
When he made mistakes, he apologized..
This is why I’m muslim, this is why I want to be muslim till the day I die.. I’m muslim because my Prophet showed me what a human being can become.. with all our human shortcomings, with all the ups and downs of life, He stood tall.. He was Human, but He overcame all that came his way..
He gives me hope everyday.. I want to become a better person because he showed me I can.. I want to try my best and behave like him, because He is the proof it can be done…
This is why I’m muslim.. And proud!