رواية عراقية مترجمة إلى الانكليزية / صهيل المرايا

Mirrors Neigh
Novel

By

Ibrahim S. Nadir

Translated by Qahtan F. Al-Khatib / Iraq


(1)

Four walls, covered with saltiness and decorated by the termite which engraved on them numbers and names some marks of which disappeared. A damp ceiling, a window alone with rusty steel bars, on its upper edge a worn-out curtain was clung. A steel bed on which lies a macerated mattress and a wooden antique chair.


All this fabulous magical space embraced me between its two wings in an upper room which I rented in the middle of an antique public district, keeping to a place, challenging the bygone time ferocity in the middle of a narrow lane whose collapsing walls recline upon the opposite ones by thick tree trunks! Children’s shouts, women’s screams, peddlers’ and fortune tellers’ voices were slapping among its twists.


Silence and expatriation were panting behind me when I came to this lane from Zeidan Alkhalaf Alilhaybi’s village which was dozing on the other bank of the river Tigris, opposite to Alqayara region, tucking craziness of my wishes and my mother’s weeping hopes to obtain a university degree for which she prepared in advance a higher place at the fore part of our muddy house courtyard, under its ceiling we all lived and were brought up.


Hope and determination were quivering inside me from an edge to another like polished mercury grains while I was taking steps forward with the broker to receive the magical room key! An appeal of steam for help loomed from me like those slayed by wishes and effaced by despair and despondence.


My desire in consent to take over the room was fading away and falling as I was entering the house porch, but I agreed, for the time was too little and the study date was approaching. In my exhalation, I felt the warmth of a newly-born human being while I was penetrating the large gate of Mosul University. My lean body was sprayed by my mother’s tears, my brothers’ invocations and my village citizens happiness, who were keeping to a place far away from me there among the orchards and our silent village banks of the rivers. When I returned to my upper room, I approached the window edge and remembered the days of my adolescence: transient faces I liked one day and now they are far away from me. Mere rural airs come and relax in my imagination then fade away and melt in my eye while I am looking into the marks of this magical lane. I measured my need for air and the desire in scattering the courses of my blood and among my teeth that suppress an appeal for help or a confession. I have come from a stagnant environment in which all nature glitters under summer and I have come to the clamor of people whom I don’t know and to the lanes not washed by the sun’s ray. I remembered my father’s face, that old-aged peasant and his physiognomy that suffered from unskilled furrows. Torturous history or torture of history on the man’s face that centuries have left for a long time. But his destiny remained linked to the land he was born on and its red mud that embraced his corpse.


My father was pushed towards me by puzzles and talisman whose secrets were understood by no one but the original peasant. Before passing away last year, he was teaching and shaking me saying:


- "O son. Do something ....anything. Isn’t it wonderful," added he, "to come out here a hero tucking a higher degree which you become proud of before the village ?"
From his question I concluded his need for freedom and emancipation from the village fetters to the carpet of the green horizon. Between his question and dialogue a long time passed. That forms his authority on me. I turned over on the flames so as to close my eyelids outside the tickling flames and I see his wish bitterness repressed in his eyes. But the latter glittered with warm brightness when he knew about my desire to keep on studying and determine to succeed regardless of the consequences. Whenever I turned over in my bed on the house roof, I heard him say as if he were consoling himself in isolation "Haven’t you slept yet, my son ?".


Several weeks passed since I have occupied my upper room in that clamorous lane. I got acquainted with people who liked me particularly Alhaj⁽¹⁾ Sabri Abu Mahmood, owner of a grocery shop at the main street corner.


- "I wish you stayed with us and never left till you got the big degree." said he one day.

- "God willing, uncle."

ــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــ ــــــــــ

(1) Pilgrim


- "How are things going on with you right now ? Does anything worry your comfort ?"

- "All right. Thanks God. But is there anything I am not familiar with, Uncle ?"

- "I don’t know, son. Whoever resides in this room does not withstand for a long time. He shifts from a room to another. I don’t know the reason for that despite the simplicity and goodness of the lane people as you yourself have seen them."

- "What is the reason for that, Haj ?"

- "You’re better than we do in revealing the secret of this bewildering puzzle when you decide to shift from it to another one."


When I ascend the long gypsum stairs to my upper room, I proceed my tips of the fingers on the echo roughness and get sure that the leisure here effaces my desire and wishes. But the leisure shakes and allocates me a new space in another world unlike the one in which I lived in the middle of our clear village world until one day a neigh sneaked to my window. I began to expect the neigh and the faint light together. I spy secretly by my glittering pupils of the eyes to distinguish its ghosts across the bars of my window overlooking another one located against my window in the adjacent house of mine.


It was a window of the room occupied by a fat lady in the forties, working as a dress-maker, aided by a tender young girl in the twenties who may share the room with her. I heard and saw whatsoever was running inside it. The distance between the two windows did not exceed two and a half meters. I was probing by the tips of my fingers the window edge, and every now and then I snatched the shot. I tried to resist and control myself, but I failed. In myself I determined not to do that because it was a waste of my time and wishes. But leisure and futility of things stain me from top to bottom. My tips of fingers return to their creeping and my pupils of the eyes glitter to the utmost range to see more. So suspicion appears and I remain expecting like a hungry fleeing victim. I run far away but I return again to the same beginning point from which I set out. Temporary calmness followed by a sudden fire blazing. I remain confused to take a decision in giving up all of that. But my life troubles with the passage of a heavy time. I shout fiercely:



"Come on. Stop at this point and be satisfied with this rotation". But my voice goes out as terrified cat’s mewing that fell down in the deep pit darkness. Once more I spy secretly and watch her arrange everything for her mistress: scissors, pins, thread and even the measurement ribbon. Then she lets the customer take off her dress so as to measure the dress. An interesting dream, undoubtedly tender in the heavy and light movement. But soon it scatters away like a soap foam. Nothing resulted from it ... Just nothing but nevertheless it is an interesting dream up till now. I am capable of kicking the curtain and have a look at her before she leaves the room, and even before her putting anything in order and closing the sewing machine necessities locket and let partition stand between us. It is the mouth of my refuge at last. But my patience was used up and I drew the worn-out curtain violently.

(2)

In the narrow lane where I reside, kids often shoot a ball sewn by their mothers out of remains of torn rags and old socks which were stained in mud and drainage water in the middle of the lane. The afternoon sun was shining with its ray on the higher houses roofs and sides. The shouts of gas sellers as well as rovers of small carts owners were raising out of their mouths. Some women sat on the thresholds wrapping their flabby bodies with black oriental cloaks some of which were decorated by bright grains of embellishments and shining colored pieces.


At that hour I entered the lane returning from my college, cautious not to be hit by the stained ball, avoiding as far as possible the shots of the small butting and excited feet.


With my creeping steps, I drew new images for me while I was crouching against the magical dress-maker’s window. There was special kind of ringing surprising my imagination assaulting towards me from the environs of my dozing village on the Tigris river banks far away from me now. I sat on the rocking antique chair for a few minutes. All of the sudden the light and neigh leaked across my window to settle extremely hot in the middle of my hungry pupils of the eyes. I approached in the slowness of a hunting cat towards the edge of the window. I began to stare with delicious passion at the space of the opposite room. The lady was jesting with the young girl again rubbing her two small breasts with experienced circular movements on the plea of trying to adjust the dress dimensions. The girl was resisting her mistress with a faint desire and false obstinacy following it every now and then with an delicious sighing as though she was asking for more.


The girl turned round me suddenly. Our eyes met. Her cheeks reddened. She tried to liberate herself tenderly from the arms of the fat lady. But the latter continued jesting with the girl increasing her compact hands movements, looking at me with a wicked smile as if she were inviting me to take a share in that stimulus sexual futility.


I drew the window curtain immediately and sat on my bed panting. In my head there were ideas and feelings that take countless interpretations ringing. I was afraid that I might go back to my difficult questions once more. So I went down to the nearby coffeehouse close to the street corner and sat on the first vacant seat I came across.


The coffeehouse customers were few in number. At the remote corner there was an old man smoking heavy tobacco grown in north Iraq. At the door there were two men having dark tea and playing Domino in disturbing clamor and nonsense, and the song Al-Rabee⁽¹⁾ comes tender and quiet from an old radio crouching on the shelf standing at the fore part of the coffeehouse.


I sat near the old man for a few minutes and all of the sudden a lad with worn-out clothes advanced towards me with a cup of tea.

- "Cash money, sir." said he.

- "Here you are."

- "Do you want water ?"

- "No, thanks."

I felt I was isolated and in need of saying something. My eyes got lost in the corrosive coffeehouse roof on its corners entangled weaving of old spiders that got fed up with long waiting for their preys that were covered with last days dust. For some time I was wandering in the thoughts. Here I am now. ........... Ah ! How idiot and naive I was when I accompanied that tramp broker who led me to this cheap impudent district ! Is it my bad luck ? Or is it my village ignorance in the tricks and mockery of the city citizens ? But what does evil have to do with the district people ? It is a peculiar condition and I have to endure and resist my burning desires. Yet, I can’t endure patience.


Myself was burning and boiling while I was recollecting my childhood in my simple village where my mother’s weeping and my brothers’ invocations were. Bidoor’s clear face revealed before me as a cup of milk in the morning saucer. Her face had nothing to do with the false city women make-up. Her eyes did not know the kohl stick except from my mother’s kohl bottle. I wish I threw myself in the Tigris river water right now despite my ignorance in swimming But I proudly remember that instant in which I swang between death and life. How my village people started to save me. Here I am now recollecting it with pride between Bidoor’s face tenderness and my passing away for ever. I get scared whenever that instant neighed in my memory despite the fact that I enjoy retelling it whenever it stirred up in my memory even though I am in the mouth of this small public coffeehouse. The old man approached me.


- "O son. New tea has been prepared." said he in fatherly kindness. "Shall I get you a cup of it?"

- "If you please. May God bless you, Uncle."

I remained drinking tea comfortably and slowly thinking again of a glimpse of the leaking light across my window. I left the piece of coin on the steel table and left the coffeehouse taking in into my lungs the moist night breeze and the voice of Fareed Al-Atrash⁽²⁾ humming by his magical lute cords the last syllable of his song Al-Rabee :

The winter nights become very long for the one whose lover has gone.


(3)

I entered from the glass gate of the College of Arts with a restless desire to run away and get rid of the strange lane nightmare remains and its endless insomnia. I sat down on the first vacant chair going over my books and manuals. Then I turned left and right seeking my guy, Ghazi Al-Edan , but Sana arrived inattentively and sat beside me.


Sana is a wild flower, washed by the morning dew, a piece of white Mosuli⁽³⁾ cloud that decorated my imagination, an elegant light brown deer in which lies spring redolence and the country tenderness. She gently whispered, welcoming as usual.

ــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــــ ــــــــــ

(1) A famous song of a famous Arabian singer

(2) A famous Egyptian singer

(3) A proper adjective of the proper noun Mosul

- "Good morning, Omar."

- "Good morning, Sana."

- "This is the first lecture for Dr. Al-Talib ."

- "You knew that from Ghazi Al-Edan. He is a professor with great scientific reputation in the field of Arabic Language and its arts."

Sana arranged her hanging down lock on her forehead and said, "Tell me. What’s the matter with you?"

- "Today you are full of speech. Tell me what you have got inside."

- "How did you know that ? Are you a palmist ?"

- "It is obvious from your physiognomy. You didn’t sleep well last night, did you ?"


She was about to laugh, but she didn’t. "Life hasn’t ended yet. The road ahead is long. Attaining claims can not achieved by wishes ..........."


With this saying, Dr. Al-Talib commenced his lecture. Then we got on very well enjoying his white jokes with the passage of time, in his brotherly joking and marvelous lecture delivery of his poetic lines particularly the erotic ones. Time passes and we do not feel how it ends in such speed and suspense together!


At the end of the lecture, I went out to the external yard of the College of Arts forwarded by Sana. Then I leaned my exhausted body against a thick-trunked lofty tree and sat squatting smoking my cigarette and watching the male and female students from far away with their creeping movement. Some of them were speaking loudly, others were eating sandwiches from the nearby stall and the rest were absorbed in a variety of things.


For a period of time I have been thinking about the subject of the fat lady and her twenty-year old girl, avoiding seeing Ghazi Al-Edan for fear of spoiling my seclusion by his endless continuous joking. I reached a decision to buy two meters of cheap cloth by which I slaughter the leaked desire neigh to my window, getting rid of this destructive insomnia which pursues me wherever my feet tread a land during the day and it is rough at night, leaving me terrified between ecstasy and frustration. After the lecture had ended, I went to Bab Al-Saraie market where there was a public market, selling abundant variety of types and colors. I bought three meters of cheap brown cloth. As soon as I arrived at the lane, Alhaj Sabri greeted me with his usual greeting :

- "Welcome ........... Welcome. May God help you, son."

- "Same to you and fortify you, Haj."

- "Today I’ve got excellent Arabian cream of the sort you like."

- "Where is it Haj ?"


I took the glass plate with two furnace loaves of bread on it and went up to my upper room. It was before the evening prayer. I remembered that I had forgotten an important thing. I immediately descended to Alhaj Sabri’s shop requesting him to give me a hammer with a few nails. He pointed by his hand to an upper shelf at the shop corner begging me to return it as soon as I get through with it. I hurriedly returned to my upper room and fixed the piece of cloth by hammering the nails on the upper window edge.


The compacted-hand fat lady paid attention to the continuous hammering. She turned her eyes towards me. She got up from the sewing machine chair and smiled to me wickedly. One of her back teeth was capped with gold. Then she encircled the girl’s waist from behind. Then she began rubbing her stomach in an experienced technique going down below the navel by her two hands while the girl was smiling with false desire resistance and her cheeks did not become rosy as the previous time when I glanced at her trying on one of the customers’ dresses. I kept on working till I finished fixing the brown curtain after I had hit my left forefinger and thumb several times. Then I sat up in bed recovering the rest of my panting breaths. I went down to Alhaj Sabri’s shop sweating. He hastened to blame me fatherly:

"You seem to be exhausted. Ah ! Young people of today ! God bless days of the past. Everyone of us was equal to five of you."

-"Don’t forget, Uncle. Thirty four up and down stairs. I got fed up with this room. So did my feet !"


(4)

Abu Al-Reesh’s coffeehouse is located against the University of Mosul main entrance. It is run by a good-natured man named Abu Elaf . It is a meeting-place of creators of poets, critics, dramatists, short story tellers and novelists as well as others from colleges. We were having tea and talking about the study problems, price increase, independent residence anxieties and the monotonous type of life in the city than of the clear village sky, its spacious countryside and its good simple people. Ghazi Al-Edan drank water from the glass in front of him with his two eyes shedding tears owing to his cigarette smoke. Then he wiped his mouth and fine mustache with his shirt sleeve silently.


- "You remain a villager," said I to him jokingly, "regardless of the passage of time and the change in your condition."

- "Of course. But don’t forget that we are from the village of Zeidan Al-Khalaf ."

- "Tonight I feel completely free, Ghazi."

- "What’s in the matter, young man of Al-Lahayb ?"

- "I got rid of a heavy boring insomnia, which leaks into my window every night putting me in distress."

- "You seem to be raving, poet of the savanna. What’s wrong with you ? Are you in love ? Disclose to your brother your ........... We are both alike in ..........."

- "I am in love and repentant at the same time."

- "Woe to you ! Lovers do not repent except after death. Do you want to die ? Bidoor is awaiting you. She loves you and you love her. What are you waiting for ? For how long will this last ? It seems to me, and Got knows, that all of you, lovers, are liars and impostors. By the way. I know a lover whose story was told by one of the shepherds. He alleged that he had been smitted by love then he repented. At the end it was evident that he was a liar, an impostor like you who laughed at naive girls."

I replied nothing. His speech entered my mind by force. I couldn’t resist it. It was a penetrating and not faint voice coming from remote distance dozing there far away near father’s grave on the Tigris river bank.

- "I want to wash my hand," said Ghazi shaking his right hand," of the delicious sticky pancake."


I stood gathering my panting breaths. - "Where to ?" cried he noisily." Don’t go. Wait for me. I’ll go out with you."

- "I’ll go out alone and you stay here. I want to revise the globe aches. I’m in another world. You, idiot, don’t know the secrets of it, you who don’t get full up !"

- "To torture and pain, you impostor lover!"

I stopped at the University Refreshments where the bus stop was and joined the first one going downtown in Bab Al-Toob. The bus seats, unlike other seats in other trips, were almost empty of passengers. I sat near the left window. All of the sudden a tender voice was tickling my ear from behind.

- "Good day."

- "G ....oo .....d da....y."

Sana was smiling as usual. I shifted to the seat close to her.

- "Where to Sindibad?"

- "Home as you see. and you ?"

- "Me too. I came to be comforted about Ghada in the female Department and copied some lectures."

- "I’m interested in you, Sana . You’re marvelous in everything."

- "Thanks for the compliment, Aba Zeidoon⁽¹⁾"

- "Why not Aba Farooq⁽²⁾?"

- "O ........... h ........... Evil be to traditions! I like the name Zeidoon and that’s enough.

We both laughed but without running so that our shadow might forward us."

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(1) Zeidoon’s father

(2) Farooq’s father


(5)

The day after tomorrow is Thursday, the twenty third of November. It is Student’s Day. University male and female students celebrate it. Saturday will be the Department holiday. I decided to go to the village to see family members, friends and my father’s tomb.


When I became extremely happy seeing my village features after my small bus Omnibus arrival there, I whole-heatedly shouted ........... Ah my dear village. Here I am back again at last. So are my accompanying memories. Ah ........... heart smile, past and present glitter. Every handful of your land as well as what’s inside it fills the world and whatsoever in it in my eye.


Where are you going to, you strong horse? loftiness of falcons and gun chanting ........... Bidoor’s face appears to me at every corner. I see it blooming and shining as usual among the small windows and the holes of our mud house walls soaring high with the butterflies color sprinkling, ducks’ fleeing and the returning from pastures sheep’s bleating. First of all, I went to our cemetery to read the first chapter of the Holy Koran and ask God to have mercy upon the spirits of my father and grandfather. From far away came to me the scream of my brother Awad :

- "Omar ... Omar ... My ...........b..r...o..th..e..r . Mother ..... Mother is awaiting you." My brother Awad and I walked together towards our antique home. A few steps before reaching it, the dry ferment with chopped straw red mud maceration diffused among the walls. It was a smell that I liked since my childhood when my mother was cleaning the house courtyard and watering it with water, then spreading out the ground with colored nylon mats and distributing square and round pillows regularly on the sides.


As soon as I trod on the thresh-old, my mother’s sobbing and applause elevated. She embraced me and hugged me overwhelming my face and shoulders with continuous flow of kisses and wiping her tears with a head black scarf.


I sat down on a colored mat leaning my back upon a round pillow. It is the same one that my late father leaned upon when he returned in the afternoon from the field. But my mother invited me to sit beside her and I did remaining silent with frowning looks at the floor.


- "What’s wrong with you, son?", said mother without waiting long as she was accustomed to.

- "Fine, thanks God, mother."

- "How are things going on with you? I’m so much worried about you."

- "Things are O.K. and I’m fine. My room is comfortable. I spend time studying with Ghazi

Al-Edan . I need nothing but may God and you be gracious to me, mother ! There’s no need for crying and sadness. Mosul is half an hour far. You’ve been affected so much, mother, as if I had come from a battle field. It has been approximately two months since my going to the university."


"Don’t blame me, son. I can not imagine how much I am delighted with your coming. Bidoor came this morning as well as in the afternoon and asked about you."

I stared at her face during absence of delight features of my face.

- "What did she want ?"

- "She wanted to know your news and circumstances. Poor Bidoor was upset and sad."

- "Why ?"

- "She said that her cousin came to ask for her hand. Ah ! Your late father liked her so much."


I drew my looks off her face to the ground again and kept silent.

- " Bidoor has grown up and has become a youth and sweet. It’s no fair let this rose be released from you. You shall never get better than her: disposition, politeness, beauty and of good family. We know her and she knows us. She is an orphan and has no one but her mother. Your father’s desire was that she be yours ever since you were young, playing together as you appealed to her."

- "Everything is destiny, mother." said he awkwardly."


- "God willing ........... Oh God," she exclaimed and her body was trembling hopefully with a desire. " Bidoor be your second half ........... Oh God!."


My eyes got lost in a world that lost its borders, at a deep instable well. Thick clouds of white smoke, coming out of its folds a magical bride, with a loose wedding garment among its

non-engineering make Sana’s face glitters, filling the open space of home village and river. A bride of smoke closes my eyelids leaving me awaiting the unknown. I get lost in the everlasting memories, smoke and deep well. I keep on sliding towards the bottom, or I hover with the insomnia clouds, the street and the city.

My imagination was tossed by the waves of pictures, incidents, Bidoor ... the window .... Sana .... the fat lady ... the lane .... the girl !


Where am I now ? Which banks of the rivers catch me ? Which light-house guides me ? Which boat saves me ? I once go up then go down without a supreme ruler on myself nor arbitrary ruling in my destiny. I embark rashly left and right without a rudder, a sail or an anchor.


The T.V. set was put on a small table, a few meters away from me. I paid attention to it and was tempted to listen to the 9 o’clock news, ignoring my mother’s feelings and my brothers’ questions. Then Bidoor came in a hurry after the news of my arrival to the village reached her. I felt wakefulness creep to my eye and tongue. But it was a lukewarm and very lean wakefulness, similar to a heavy dream which separated between the eyelid and the eye, causing me sudden headache.


Mother stood at my head and began to speak quietly welcoming Bidoor whose face was shining. I heard nothing from her, only two lips were moving without a voice, in addition to lost words without ways or a guide. From my inside I exclaimed: "Is this Bidoor and that is Sana ? ! What a deep gap between the two !" In seconds I breathed deeply from a current that blew towards me from the door opening to the house courtyard. I stretched my neck to look at her welcoming. I tried hard to make it hot, but she cleverly felt it.


- "Hello ... Hello Bidoor. Welcome. Please have dinner with us."

But Bidoor turned heavily towards the door saying :

- "Thanks. Good appetite all of you. I only liked to say hello to Omar."

- "What’s this Bidoor ?" cried my mother. "You are one of us. Don’t make yourself a stranger. We shall never forget the companionship and the long neighborhood years."

When Bidoor was about to get out, she called me:

- "You have become another man with these clothes, Omar !"

An exhausted smile started on my face. My tears kept on imprisoned in the eyelids and my grieves were subject to the chest. But I went out to the open air. I released my tears and grieves at the same time when I found myself by the river bank. I felt light and happy that I was unable to understand their meaning after I took a definite and final decision.


On Saturday at 4 p.m. the mini bus runs on the sandy road of Zeidan Al-Khalf’s village towards the road leading to Mosul City. Tomorrow is Sunday. The study will commence with the first lecture by Dr. Abu Shireen, brother of late Jandari, a brilliant storyteller. Sana will sit beside me as usual. I shall have to be ready for her white sweet tricks she will never give up as long as we are together in one department at college.


(6)

When I walked at the beginning of the narrow lane, the cry and quarrel flared up. A funny battle broke out. Its brave soldiers were children and women who exchanged abuse and insults. Everyone of them revealed another’s secrets disclosing her defects. So is in love with so behind her husband, and so loves so without her family’s being informed, whereas the third has got a dirty house and she knows nothing about the art of cooking. A miserable dialogue ! Cheap entries that their meaning had faded away among the clamorous shouts and colored scream by meaningless dispute among the lane children.


- "Thank God, Haj," said I to Haj Sabri Abu Mahmood. "We’re not the heroes of this hot fight."

- "It’s not important, son, It’s a matter of a few hours and things become normal. So do strong friendships and old amity. Their regular meetings on the house thresholds as if nothing had happened. Then starts gossip, telling tales, private and public meanness. This dramatic scene is familiar to us all. It is almost semi weekly. You yourself will be accustomed to it and become familiar with it. Thank God that the lane men never interfere with such trivial problems, otherwise things become worse and develop badly. The main thing is: How did you spend your vacation ? How are the village circumstances .... mother brothers and family members?"


- "Very well. All are O.K. and they say hello to you. I have told them about your goodness and your warm reception to me. Without you, I could not have withstood in this horrible lane !"

- "Oh God ... What’s horrible in it ? Pay attention to your lessons, son. Your mid-year exams are approaching. As your proverb says:

-Who planted reaped-. You are a peasant son of a peasant. You quite well understand the meaning of seriousness and labour."

- "If God will, uncle. One has to be ready for (The unexpected), doesn’t he ?"

- "God bless you, hero."

- "But Haj ..... ?"

- "But what ?"

- "E .... r ...r.. I’ll let you know later, not now."

- "Please do say what the matter is. Tell me. Do you need money ? Speak out. Don’t be ashamed. I’m your uncle."

- "No, Haj. You’ve go so far away ......................................... so far away. Things are O.K. Thank God. But I shall tell you at the exact time but not now. Bye."


I went up to my upper room and started cleaning it, arranging my necessaries and other requisites. I washed the teapot and some small table dishes. Then I sat on bed to complete the rest of criticism research requested by Prof. Dr. Al-Talib about Pre-Islamic poetry, assisted by some reference books which I borrowed from the good-hearted book-shop owner at Al-Najafi Street, called Al-Haj Shams Aldeen Abu Wisam, the other one’s borrowed from the college library, others from the university library and from some classmates.


I was startled at the sound of a pebble hitting strongly my window glass. I drew the window curtain and eastern music tunes went up to my ears, followed by beautiful dancing harmony of sounds. The fat lady was smoking with interest drawing attention, doubt and suspicion, drawing by her lips oval circles of blue smoke. The girl has encircled her two haunches by bright black cloth belt, has danced and swung with the ascending melodies of brilliant specialized art and distinguished capability. Nothing covered her crystal body but a vivid red garment under its transparency glittered all the harmonious body details, starting from two challenging breast nipples, coming down to the thin stomach height till the two harmonious haunches convexities standing like a bolter barbarian horse.


The fat lady’s two pupils of the eyes, like a hungry cat, were biting my brown physiognomy as she was strongly blowing the blue smoke circles towards me, revealing in disgusting loathing one of her gold-covered back teeth. I closed the window curtain completely veiling every inlet that may this leaking cheap sexual neigh enter from the other window.


I sat up in bed tacking neighing horses out of my panting, to stop this insomnia which pursues me from all corners of this astonishing ambiguous lane. I made up my mind to leave this quarter or this room in particular any how. But the shadows of Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood and the old man, owner of the nearby coffeehouse hindered my will and executing my aim. I went down to the old man’s coffee-shop at half past twelve so as to comfort the rest of my exhausted nerves of ecstasy tortures and the aching desire ringing that never stops.


The good man welcomed my sudden visit with a face full of delight and greeting. He called his young boy immediately to fetch a cup of tea. He spoke with complaint his hidden affiction:

- "My son, Taha, is late this time in his periodical vacation. It is not his habit. I am worried about him. Thank God. May God protect him as well as his mates. On Him we rely and to Him we return. Patience is good. There is no God but Allah."

- "Where is (Taha) now, uncle ?"

- "A recruit conducting the military service in Basra at one of the camps there called Aldrehmiya which I have never heard of."

- "Don’t worry, uncle. Rely on the only God. He is the best to protect and the most merciful."

- "Thank God. But I am alone, son. The rheumatoid arthritis does not leave me. But, tell me ... I missed you this time. Where have you been ?"

- "I visited my family in the village."

I hesitated a little bit but I begged him to help me achieve my request.

- "Uncle Abu Taha. You know that my room is very small and that going up to it is tiring and boring. I wish you helped me look for another room instead of this one. It might at least be better."

- "Why don’t you rent a room at the nearby hotel ?. It is comfortable. It has a sitting room, a T.V. set and not too bad service."

- "No, uncle. The hotel is clamorous. Its guests vary in mood, habits and behavior. They may drink liquor and conduct other taboos. I am a peasant, son of a village, so far away and hate such mean things that do not suit me particularly I am a university student."

- "You’re right. God bless you. You’re well bred and of good family. I shall try hard and if God wish, you shall get what pleases and satisfies you. Only give me time. Everything will be O.K."

- "Hail, uncle Abu Taha ! You’ve comforted me and displaced a lot of my anxieties. But please do it as fast as possible."

- "With the aid of God, go and be secured and comfortable. Tomorrow is a gain as it is said."

I left the coffeehouse returning to the mixed neighing room, dreaming of a new hope that may save me from this lane with the coffee-shop voice echoing in the narrow lane silence, singing the song of the late singer, Abdul Haleem Hafidh :

(( Any sadness tear, No .... No

.........................................

Any injury in my heart, No .... No

...............................

Any confusion moment, No

.........................................

No ........... No ........... No

......................................... ))


(7)


At the curves of the western foot of Maqloob mountain lies with resistance Mar Matti Monastery. Duration of long years and it still challenges the vicissitudes of bygone time. A lonely way, like a wriggling snake, leads you to its huge stone gate. From there you overlook a heavenly orchard, Spring appears bright among its valleys. It glitters as you go deep into the foot of hills surrounding it in a magical carnival among the fields of: Wild white lilies, heaps of Al-Khuzami and the beautiful Mosulli chamomile.


This fascinating divine view linked the College of Arts / Arabic Department male and female students to a spring trip on one of beautiful April days. Three small buses included professors as well as classmates starting from our distinguished professor Dr. Omar Al-Talib till our department old-aged janitor. At the most beautiful location the three buses stopped and all got off and spread on the land arranging the trip necessaries. Eatables and various types and taste of refreshments were distributed. Male and female students made and prepared them.

We sat down looking at one another. Sana sat on my right and in front of her was a Mosulli Dolma, a famous dish, cooking-pot in addition to various kinds of pickles.

- "This Dolma is my make and not my mother’s."

- "Bravo, Sana !"

- "Today I knew the meaning of torture, the torture of a worried life and a soul that goes astray."

- "Future is far away and days are long. They shall teach you a lot of things. Be careful about yourself lest you should get lost of fallen."

- "Oh ..... ! I forgot. Where’s your mate, Ghazi Aledan ?"

- "He didn’t come with us. Now he is in another spring with Narjis on the village Zeidan

Al-Khalaf’s banks of the river fishing together."

- "Who is this Narjis ! ?"

- "His cousin and fiancée."

- "And you ?"

- "I am crumbling stones by my grieves. No sweetheart, no relative and no one to keep company with."

- "Come on eat and don’t philosophize. You wanted it a plea to open your intuition."

My voice was harsh as it was coming out to her. Doubtlessly she understood my intention. She is smart and she very much glances.

What a bright light passed by me as she was distributing the rest of foodstuffs ! I, then, remembered that the female fortune-teller would take half of my assets if her prophecy were true. But she left me under a ceiling of raving, accumulated by sticky flies, as there was originally no fly. I repeat with myself in enjoyable slowness. A ship at the harbor takes you to it at the time you don’t search for it. It will come to you. Nothing left in the butter utensil but butter. Masses of worms, more than we imagine. You like to get married twice. The first one will leave you either by death or by divorce. They remain with you, you are a child with children and an old man with old men. Very simple and not haughty. You will attain pilgrimage to the Sacred House. Future is broad in front of you. You shall be of great importance and dignity.

- "What a shivering that passed on my body was ! Sana was sitting beside me once and in front of me in the other !"


The trip ended and we returned to Mosul amid the singing of some and the mawaliyya of others - both good and bad. In indescribable delight I shifted to my new room rented to me by Uncle Abu Thah after hard in convincing the old woman and her handicapped son. The house was located between Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood’s shop and Uncle Abu Taha’s coffee-shop. The room was on the ground floor near the door directly. It had a small window overlooking the lane directly. But its rent allowance was a little higher than that of my first room. It doesn’t matter as long as I became safe of the ladders inconvenience and the opposite window neigh. But Alhaj Abu Mahmood’s questions continued following me breathlessly to know the real cause of this bewildering mystery. He said to him.


- "I swear I shan’t leave you until you tell me the secret. You are the seventh to leave the room. What ? Is it haunted in which demons hide and ferries dance inside it ?"

- "Believe me, Haj," replied he, "... The stairs leading to it are long and tiring. I got fed up with ascending and descending. Besides, I got bored with the lane clamor and its landlords."

- "No ... No ... Impossible. There must be another cause. Definitely there must be someone whom I should know. The hidden secret may be revealed one day. Ah, you young ambiguous rabbit ! The saying is right (What might be simple might be great)".

- "Alsarrajkhanna, a famous Mosulli women’s market, is a meeting of sweethearts and lovers. It is the street of love and teenager youth. It is a prosperous market for the virgins looking for a husband and the spinsters whose age train passed .... (You can see what you don’t expect): panders and brokers, huge masses of both genders go to and fro on the plea of buying something, middle women and beggars. Lying is evident on their features. None sells or buys anything except love, flirtation and clean or disclosed admiration. Large shops with shop windows and most charming and elegant model girls on show to attract customers only. Dates and bargains as well as agreements made by whisper or by touch. Glances and technical shivering of those of thin eyebrows and false cheap make-up. Inside and outside-shop meetings while I am standing face to face shocked before the fat lady and her playful and of the twenties girl !"

- "Coward and unmanly .... why did you run away from me ?"

- "Would you like me to extend bridges between the two windows so as to reach you ?"

- "Why not ? Come through the door. I’ll leave it open for you if we agree."

- "Agree on what ?"

- "Once with me and the other with the girl."

- "Your choice is wrong. Look for me an other customer. I’m not one of them."

- "Coward and unmanly. No manhood and no hope in you, aren’t one of them, are you ? What’re you doing up here ? Do you look for people better than us ? Don’t we appeal to you ? Look .... Beauty .... soft skin .... free of charge. What do you want ?"

- "You’re very much mistaken. You’re gone so far. I fear God and the other world. I’m looking for a pharmacy to buy special medicine for sick mother in the heart."

- "God protects your poor mother for this miserable creature which is no good. You’re fruitless."

- "Thank God till He is satisfied."

- "Go to Hell you and your mother, son of a ..........."

I wholeheartedly laughed as I was stepping on the threshold of Uncle Abu Taha’s coffee-shop. He was worried and mixed up a little bit when he told me that one of our relatives whom he does not know his name has already passed by and told him that my classmate, Ghazi Aledan had a car accident on Mosul-Baghdad road during his trip to our village that morning."

This item of the news had fallen on my head like a (thunderbolt). Unconsciously, I felt myself on the back seat of a fast-going saloon car to Zeidan Alkhalaf’s Village. Everything was over when I stepped on my classmate and my childhood companion late Ghazi Aledan Aleheibi’s house threshold.

The men sitting by the door stood up. They responded to my heavy greeting by a firm voice. Then I entered. Where shall I sit in this crowded house with people ? Abu Ghazi was occupying a chair at a deep corner of the rectangle house courtyard.

I advanced towards him. He saw me coming to him. He stood up. crookbacked with weak movement. We embraced. We were on the point of bleeding and sad weeping. I could see Ghazi in his sticky dress. He saw Ghazi in my red eyelids. Tears mixed with tears. The globe picture was stirred in my eye. Then all of the sudden it settled down. The voice of a young reader of the Holy Koran was saying:

In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful ( O peaceful self, return to your God satisfied and convinced. Enter among my human race and enter my paradise)


Mother’s eyes were sad. She wept shivering. Her moan voice was ringing throughout the house as she entered the courtyard.


Her voice was harsh with buried sighs. I couldn’t help weeping with her. Ghazi Aledan has been one of us since childhood. I found the world rotate and get foggy. It rotates and fades away during my eye falling tears. I saw mother put her hands on her eyes and lose her balance. She got entirely dizzy; therefore I hurried to her horrified.


My sister-in law, Awad’s wife, her children, our female neighbor, Bidoor and we cooperated to carry her to her room.

Her body was cold oozing sweat. At the critical minutes that made us tremble being afraid about her. Her lips mumbled. I made my head approach her. Mother smiled wearily and tenderly.

- "Don’t be afraid," said mother faintly. "It is a simple crisis and I shall be all right after a while. Leave me alone. Let me get rest."


We left her as she liked. Each one went into one’s direction. Bidoor’s mother apologized as she was leaving the house. My sister in law reprimanded her son for causing clamor during playing with our neighbor, Sadoon's son.


I found myself worried. It was clear in my eyes, lips and tongue. It was evident in my steps. My breaths were panting as if I were coming from distant areas. I lit a cigarette to treat my tension, worry and fatigue.


The three-day condolence meeting of late Ghazi Aledan was over and the consolation rites ended. Mother’s condition improved. I went back to Mosul so as to replace my missing lectures.

At the time of the calling to the evening prayer, I arrived at the lane. The old lady was worried inquiring about me and about my sudden absence. I told her about what had happened.


- "O son," said she with bashfulness and hesitation appeared clearly on her voice accent. "You are from a good Arabian village, a son of an original family. You understand the etiquette. You know the good disposition, praiseworthy reputation and the straightforward manner.


- "Please do enter the subject, Hajja. What’s the matter ?"

- "Don’t worry, dear son. The case summary is that my daughter, Mahasin, has quarreled with her husband and his family. The matter extended and ended with separation, i.e. (Divorce). Tomorrow she will come with her infant and she’ll live with us. She is a young and sweet girl. I’m afraid of people’s speech and tongue that are not merciful."

- "Don’t complete, Hajja. I understand what you mean. It is right, sense and correctness. I don’t like you to have idle talk. Kindly give me time till tomorrow. If God wish, everything will satisfy you and convince you. You are like my mother. Your house is mine."

- "Blessed son. God protect you and save you of any misfortune. You are all morals."


At last I returned to my upper room, to its long tiresome stairs and to the endless kidding of Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood. The room has not yet been rented to others.

- "Ha ! Sir. (Back again as you had left) !"

- "Destiny .... Destiny, Haj. I can’t help it. A written fate for me to stay beside you throughout the entire age and forget your (harshness).

- "May God have mercy upon Um Kalthoom, a famous Arabian female singer. Tonight is a feast-day."


(8)


The neigh once more leaks out to my room tickling my pores inside the room which I had already returned to. I can’t stay in it even one night regardless of how enchanting the place in which I stay up or sleep is ! Whatsoever the type of the female dancers at Aldawasa Street night clubs, I need nothing but returning so as to feel myself after this short absence away from it no where except in the laps of my village and my childhood naughtiness. I may prepare for traveling again to Zeidan Alkhalaf Allihabi’s Village.


On the way to Mosul University, the longing for the Arabic Language Department and my late classmate, Ghazi Aledan mixed me up. I don’t know why ? Is it longing and love for the classes wood, blackboards and windows ? Or is it for that elegant honey virgin ? The bus covers the distances as well as memories together. Trees walk fast along with me. The match I lit burned the distance between my room and college before it to my cigarette. Nothing is along the road except the sun ray. The road lengthens and my memories mix with tears do lengthen. I smile alone. I stick this tear coming out of the spirit bows fearing that the rest of passengers see me and I smile; therefore I close my mouth and draw the curtain on my features. The shadow of Sana follows me. At one moment I felt how those clothes on my body were false as I was penetrating deeply into the university corridors in the same way as snakes did. Nothing was with me except a torn-edged paper container. But I found the latest poem of mine composed for Sana among its exhausted folding burdened grieves:

I extend my hand to the sea,

Though thy eyes ran away with it,

Towards the strait,

I close the sea gate to death,

Remain far away,

Till the thick winter,

You, the wind and I stay,

Divide this silence,

The deep era,

At an instant you make spring drown trembling,

I hunt the drowned spring head,

Your eyes flee away from me,

In them I possess two shores,

Where is the way ?

I had two sandwiches of (falafil), a popular cheap dish, as I was on my way to my upper window. The opposite neigh was as usual awaiting my return. Three continuous pebbles fell on my window glass one by one. I removed the brown curtain. The fat lady raised the volume of the tape-recorder in challenge to me so as to listen with her to Shadya, a famous Egyptian female singer :

(( Who told you to reside at our district )),

Busying us and disturbing our comfort,

May you find a solution to out matter,

(( Or give up and leave our district )).


The fat lady a little bit approached the window and leaned her fat white elbows upon it surrounding her two big breasts by them to increase their hanging down outwards towards me. She was wearing a black garment so as to make her more tempting than before.

- "Cover your body," said I to her. "not as ashamed of me but to be careful not to catch cold."

Her gold back-tooth glittered as usual and she followed up with dull coquetry sway:

- "(Life is spring and the weather is fine). Come on. No one is here. I left you the door almost open."

- "Where is the girl ?"

Her forehead frowned with a little bit anger resentment.

- "No ........... This is my turn. I’m always the first !"

- "Please. I have an exam. Help me. For God’s sake."

- "O.K. This time you’re permitted. But watch out. No one refuses my request whatsoever. I’m Jaleela and the reward is from God !"

- "But you didn’t tell where the girl is ?"

- "What does it matter to you ?"

- "It’s only a question to feel assured about you and her."

- "She’s gone to her family. She knew everything: cutting out. sewing and embroidery. She will never come back. At present I have no need for her. Ha ... Is your heart comfortable ? Be sure and calm down."

- "Then you’ve got to search for another one who can help you in the art of ........... !"

- "Which art? What do you mean, son of a ........... ?"


At that hour of time, I got assured that my departure was just a hopeless hope, and that the seamstress, Jaleela, her name that I knew from the neighbors, is a playful lady and an experienced female procurer. She is skilled at the art of (egg and stone) as the proverb says. She left no winning paper in my hand but the return to her and disappearance among her ribs and corners. I don’t know the difference between straying and shadows. Merely antiquities in the spirit whose shape does not aid me. I no longer understand myself as I am between her hands. A feather under the rain or a dry straw played by the wind or a prey in the hunter’s pit. I prepare myself to flee from her or show submission between her laps.


Jaleela has become like prickly pear growing in my body pores, between the biting of its pins from the surface and its sweet taste in the core. It heightens the same as my stature does. That is the strict judgment and the eternal punishment to my longing and love ecstasy for the village I love.


Herb and incense were left by me at my age stations but I could not run away and get rid of seduction cocoon and femininity persistence that Jaleela follows me with till they became the biggest tattoo mark among my ribs.


- "Can you do it tonight ?" Jaleela said with a clear desire then she drew her window curtain.

Jaleela’s misgivings have become with me: A conflict kindles between goodness and evil with horrible obstinacy between vice and virtue so as to get rid of the filled mine field, ecstasy, desire and luxury dipped in passions.


O this room grown with spearmint, pistachio-nuts and femininity ! O life taste and your opponent is nothing but a woman of crystal, panting and serving love ! What do you want Omar Alelheibi more than this ? May God protect you and do well to your abode .... more than serving love, a loving heart, a body full of immorality, sin and crazy and greedy wrong. Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood claims that there are fairies or demons aiming at revealing the bewildering puzzle .... (poor) man he is ! He does not know (A from B).


Here you are now Omar outside the village houses, the Zeidan Al-Khalaf Village, but more than that awkwardness that your eyes hit every evening with a sort of deviated women as well as young girls who wander in Alsarrajkhanna furrows aimlessly except hunting lovers.

- "Untruth is what you think of now. Omar son of Hamadi or what do you want ? But despite you, you have to think of it whether you want it or not or whether you like it or not."

I didn’t to her despite all this flood. I didn’t go to her till she reproved me the other day:

- "I knew you wouldn’t come. The clock striking and my heart told me so. I was not stupid enough to believe a very lean man like you, or an idiot villager who does not know the real taste of honey; therefore I stayed for myself smoking my cigarette calmly. Have you seen, idiot. a woman like me expert at blowing the smoke at your face ? But, one day, you will definitely come and kiss my hand. I’ll spit at your face. Remember this. It’s a promise from me, donkey, who does not know the honey taste curdled in cream."


(9)


At horrible moments, I was closing my eyes for fear of drifting or sliding after the mazes of this dream which I have never had before. I was imagining that that hanging drawing in front of me on the other window was a horrible nightmare. The neigh has changed into frightening black snake hissing that may swallow me up greedily at any moment. I have become between either going deep through life or running away towards the safe horizon.


- "(Ah ! If you knew where my special feelings came from !)" thus Bidoor said to me when we were young playing on the banks of the rivers. Love had a heavy beautiful constraint. I felt I was walking in the counter direction as if there were something inside me urging me to keep on walking with till reaching the goal then depart from her at the horizon without returning.


I entered Uncle Abu Taha’s coffee-shop as his voice was ringing under the low ceiling (O God .... O God .... my dear). The old man seemed to be delighted by his son Taha’s return from Basra. He lost control of himself and did not know how to express himself of complete happiness.

The poor man was swinging from side to side in rapture and harmony with Fareed Al-Atrash’s sighs and roundelay coming with the lute strings humming and the song (The First Whisper), shouting at the top of his voice at every single sigh coming up the type recorder:

- "(Today, young men. Tea cups are served free on my own account.)".

- "Congratulation and thousand of congratulation, uncle. Thank God for Taha’s safety."

- "Thank you son, of the original roots, good man and good-natured." The old man was laughing with rattle and pain followed by acute and continuous cough. Despite that, he overloaded himself suffering from all these shocks that stir feeble body during his distributing of tea cups to the small coffee-shop customers by his hand.

- I left the place to Aldawasa Street after the evening prayer and met by accident one of my College of Education classmates. We had two sandwiches of boiled eggs and bad pickles. Afterwards, we had two cups of dyed tea. Then we entered Hamurabi Cinema. We saw an exciting film of the spectacular star Silvister Stalon. Then I returned to my upper room walking. I did not know the reason that prevented me from entering Jaleela’s house when I noticed her semi opened house door. It might have been some other lover in replacement of me. I went up the long plaster stairs on the side toes. At first I was confronted with voices and sighs almost drowned. They then gradually appeared as long as I approached my room door. Without switching on the light, I opened the door. I saw Jaleela and the girl almost undressed in bed. She was as usual flirting with the girl perfect artistic techniques. The girl was complaining once and then laughing as if she wanted more. The red lamp light was adding to their bodies fantastic features of color and form. I remained long watching what was happening in front of me as I was stubbornly resisting the red firebrand blazing burning in my inside. Sweat was oozing out of my body, boiling up fountains in which I bathed from my head to the hollow of the sole of the foot.

Jaleela was startled and shouted angrily when she glanced me watch what was going on in front of me inside her slaughtered room vein to vein eagerly and with bleeding greediness.

- "Dog ..... Son of a .... What do you want from us ? Why don’t you come around as far as you like it ? Coward .... Effemmate ... Worthless .... Mean."

I drew the curtain and lay in bed. I fell asleep till the morning with my clothes on burying my face among the pillow furrows of ecstasy and rage; struggling with the flood of desire and rejection behind the window bars.


Early in the morning I arrived at Abu Elaf’s coffee-shop, opposite the main entry of Mosul University. I had a cup of curdled milk. Then the rest of classmates and I entered the Arabic Department after climbing up the boring hill stairs on which our lofty college was situated.


Here I am as usual whether at college or in the lane self-depressed and exhausted. Fatigue has destroyed my body and made my mind tired and scattered, panting after the agitated essence and the neigh that did not give up following me hurting my body with endless stabbing.


I met Sana at the college gate. She was as usual bright-faced. She was surprised at my situation and at my anarchist appearance that drew attention.

- "What’s wrong with you, Omar, swelling in the eyelids and congestion in the eyes as if you were working in a steel-workshop."


- "I don’t know what to tell you about. It was a heavy night in which I could not close my eyelids. Boring insomnia, furious clamor in the middle of a narrow lane which could block my breaths. How can I protect myself and get rid of this calamity ? I don’t know."


There was a huge circumcision party in the lane. Everything got into a state of utter confusion. It then turned into struggling and fighting, screaming and wailing from all directions, engaging in hand quarreling, beating by sticks, stones and .... and give and take.


- "You can do nothing but endurance and patience. Little has left and the academic year is about to close. Next year, you’ll have to prepare a special program in housing and studying. Place means a new style after such matters you passed by."

- "You mean I shan’t see you during this long period, shall I ?"

- "Don’t exaggerate. It’s only four months and the summer holiday ends."

- "You mean one hundred and twenty days and I remain struggling the torture of longing and nostalgia. Sana, you know the truth of my feelings, the highness of my emotion and love to you. Why don’t I come to ask for your hand and settle the matter ?

- "The subject, Omar, is farther than this as you imagine. My family does not know about our story. You yourself do not know me yet. Our dispositions may not harmonize each other. The city girl may be shocked by the country-side man. Everyone has got his own traditions. Our life system differs from yours. Days are still long till you get the B.A. degree .... and each one of us will understand the other. Maybe one of us goes into a direction opposite to that of what we did not expect. Leave it to the days, Omar. Our destiny is written in Heaven. We don’t know what fate hides us of surprises and incidents whether sweet or sour."

- "But, Sana. I want to reach the shore safe so as to be heart-comforted and calm-breathed. Thus I get rid of this unbearable neigh that creeps to my window every evening and morning while I’m suffering, Sana.

- "If God wish and (what’s good is offered by our God). So please Omar, linger a little bit because there’s no need to hurry. Get ready, the examinations are about to start."

After the second lecture, we went out together and sat on a wood bench under the shade of a huge lofty willow tree. Male and female students: coming and going. Nothing busy them except the year’s lectures and the anticipation of the coming examination questions.


I decided to go deep in the topic once more with Sana to hang at lest with a fine thread of hope:

- "Sana ... Do you expect your family may refuse ?"

- "I don’t know. But my opinion has got another impact inside the house. Father respects each opinion of ours: my brothers’, my sisters’ and mine. He frankly discusses it with us in complete satisfaction whether negatively or positively."

- "O God ... How I wish it ended with consent and the hearts gathering ! But as soon as I think if it, I tremble of the end and the unknown destiny which I fear. All of a sudden, it took from me my father and my childhood companion Ghazi Aledan. May God be merciful on him. It was a violent stabbing that shook my body and was about to end my life. Had it not been for my patience and faith in God’s will, glory to him and no one can stop His judgment."

- "There you are Omar. You ask and you answer. (It may be that you dislike a thing, it is good for you; it may be that you like a thing while it is bad for you.) (Sufficient unto us is God. There is no God but Him). The nearby stall worker raised the volume of his type recorder. There was a song of Kadhim Al-Sahir, a famous young Iraqi singer:

- I let you choose and do choose,

-Between death on my chest,

-Or on my poetry notebooks,

-Choose either love,

-Or no love.

-It is cowardice not to choose,

There’s no middle zone,

-Between Paradise and Hell.

-I let you choose,

-You choose.

We both laughed without any comment while interesting fear was tickling our young hearts as we were fading away among the chatter of the entering masses to the long lecture hall.


(10)


My feet trod the first pass way that entered (Zeidan Al-Khalaf Alelheibi’s village in the afternoon. I got off the small bus (Coaster) as people were looking at me in grief and sadness. They imagined that (Ghazi Aledan came to joke with them as usual in the body of Omar, son of Hamadi. I went to the village cemetery ignoring the traditional condolence rituals at our village. I went to the late Aledan Alelheibi’s tomb and I sat in front of the tombstone to read from the Holy Koran chapters for him, for my father and all the dead lying in the silent tombs. I sat alone crying due to the agony of Ghazi Aledan’s departure. By his death I felt that my childhood has gone today leaving my body. His loss was like a striking of ash. I saw it enter deep in my eyelids. Its dull part tears my bowels. My tear dried up and my eyelid stiffened as I was looking at his corpse lying in front of me in a narrow tomb at a deserted cemetery. Glory to God who has the kingdom of everything and to Him you return. Stored years whose quiver is ripped in front of me today shall not return again.

More than the village of Al-Khalaf and the prepared tribe of Al-Laheeb cried over him.

In front of all, I certify and confess that Ghazi was much cleverer than I and all the villagers. His ambition was College of Engineering / Architecture Department. But on his father’s insistence and his love to poetry made him join the College of Arts. I wished I were like him for at least one time during our childhood but I failed. One day he was motionlessly stuck to the temple wall after wearing the clothes of a crookbacked old man. By then I did not believe that that blessed skinny old man was the wanderer, Ghazi. At that time he made fun of us calling: Come on. I’ve collected a lot of money. Follow me, young men. We shall all eat from Master Zeidan’s Kabab. Come on. Don’t let this age opportunity go. Come on.


We all liked him. We made ourselves desire to see him and play with him. His brimful vanity running out of his eyes drew us to him in longing and love. When he was infected by the yellow fever, we left the lane and gossip and went to ask about him in fear lest he should have a misfortune which meant an end to our delights for ever. But he returned to us fully recovered like a horse. He was able to overcome the fever and return to his old kingdom near the banks of the rivers tied by the adventure buzzing and playful tricks. This time he was not alone who rejoiced and played with us. In the pocket of his striped sleeping garment, (Dishdasha), there were several coins and a five-dinar note. He, as usual, cried among us joyfully: Come on, young men. Follow me. Tears sneaked into my pores, eyes and fingers as I was sitting in the house courtyard with his father, old man Edan Al-Luheibi. Before others sitting feel me, I went outside the house. But a last eye-drop had fallen on my trousers making me sure that I wept for him a lot.


A tea cup slid from my fingers without my noticing. Its pieces scattered into smaller particles on the house courtyard. Some tea leaked to my clothes. My sister-in-law swept and cleaned the place of bright small splinters.

- "Thank God," mother said, "It took evil with it."

Everything is still in the River Tigris and, motionless except for a bald-headed fisherman, wiping the summit of his head tenderly between a wave and another, refreshing its bright surface like a mirror.


I set out searching for Bidoor among the animals and stockades. These were the places which we often visited together when we were children, how we hid among their dark corners as we were playing Al-Khateela⁽¹⁾ and (Al-Harra)⁽²⁾.

I enter this cottage or open that stockade. But why do I look for her in every alley or a deserted mud hut ? Do I really love her ? Why did I imagine her one day to be the most beautiful girl of the age ? I wake up at a lovely trembling of damp fear. Do I convince myself through this redolent herbage that surrounded me from everywhere ? But the past idols fell on my head filled with what we’d met on the shores of that beautiful river.


How many memory distances have I covered to reach you, Bidoor ? But my physiognomy still remained glittering among those bewildered cotton flocks of gulls. No one would believe me if I said that my torture was mixed between you and Sana. She might slip away and God only knows.


I don’t know how delight leaks to my body when Sana’s sudden vision blocks my mixed up memory book as if she were part of me, breathing with me and pulsing with my traveling blood courses.

Nearly an hour passed and I was alone till I met Bidoor who was pale-faced and skinny. A wedding ring was decorating her left ring finger

- "Congratulation, Bidoor. I wish you good luck and happiness. Believe me I swear. I

was ......................................... ?

————————————

(1) A children game of hiding

(2) A popular game played by district children


- "At last you thought of Bidoor. What’s this modesty and deep noble feeling that all of the sudden came down on us, our great master ?" Please don’t complete. In you I hated the ideal and preacher man. You shall not burn me again by your wet matches. Tell me what you want from me now. I am a married woman and my husband’s reputation is above every thing in my opinion."


- "What made you change, Bidoor ? You weren’t ...........

- "You and your cheated promise .... I was idiot when I believed you one day that my blood belonged to you ... to the world we drew together."

I looked at her and some faint light was shining from my pupils of the eyes.

- "You occupy a vast area in the heart, Bidoor. But your understanding to me was a big error which we both participated in terminating and burying it. You imagined it a dream, a paradise or an oasis of ambergris, iris and jasmine. I imagined it my purity hermitage or a sacred niche like a rainbow in the fresh white heart. I still wipe off dews from my neck and my memory bathes in the forests of lilies wildflowers due to which flocks of colored butterflies and the futility of skylarks chased us.

- "Be brief, Omar. I hate this place. Everything between us finished and died. Don’t dig up in the grieves of that unreal illusion which snapped long at my flesh and blood. You did kill everything beautiful in my heart."

- "Did that past become damned up to this extent, Bidoor ?"

- "Yes. I was deceived by its darkness and I was deluded in its dark corridors. I was dreaming of a bright light glittering before me while I was entering it so as to reach the beautiful tunnel end which I always dreamed of, its bright spring and its gay paradise."

Bidoor has gone away. She has gone far away with no return .... a fountain of friendly reproach and trees of curses have fallen on the top of my head. I wanted to open my mouth and tell her that her days with me had fallen in the pit of ghosts and illusions drawn by my mother and hers. But she slipped away hurriedly without turning towards me until her shadow faded in the remote horizon.

- "God forgives you, Omar, son of Hammadi Al-Luheibi," said I to myself, "for your committing on Bidoor. You have planted the land with campfire and iris. Now you feel the awe, guilt and the severe punishment. You yourself slaughter this beautiful lily of the valley. Woe to you, Omar ........... confess and ask God’s forgiveness for your guilt. May God exchange your misdeeds for merits. We are all mistaken. The best mistaken ones as for God are the repentant.


(11)


A long period of approximately three-week time passed after the hot meeting between me and Jaleela, the dress-maker. I no longer remain at my upper window except for very short times during the day. Final examinations were approaching. I began to study the lectures with classmates who rented furnished rooms at the University District due to being close to college and photocopying bureaus. The rent was very high.

I received various items of news from our village by one of the relatives coming to Mosul city. The most important one is that Mrs. mother was fine and that she was eager to see me. Besides, I had to attend the ceremony of my only one nephew’s circumcision, Turkey, by the end of next month.

Today I prepared myself to clean my upper room of dust and dirt which occurred to it during my absence away from it and arrange my necessaries so as to pass the night there. I was a hard guest to bear among my classmates during the period I revised my lessons with them.


I was startled at three small pebbles that all of the sudden attacked my window during my inattention. One of them broke the upper window. I removed the curtain a little bit to see Jaleela semi undressed as usual. Her features have changed. She has turned into a wild wolf:


- "You shall never slip away from me, son of a ........... I shall teach you, mean and dirty, who Jaleela is, son of ........... It is easy. Days are between us. You shall see with your own eyes how I tear off your ........... !"

I returned to revising my lessons paying no attention to her.

- "Who is that trivial and foolish one that threatens me while I am the stiff son of the village ?"


I stayed up until mid night then I switched off the room lamp reading the exorcisms and the Holy Koran verse (The Chair). I slept delighted and untroubled-hearted dreaming of the village chants and Sana at our mud cottage with my mother and the river banks tune playing as well as orchards of melons and watermelons.


I woke up at the shouts, noise, clamor and disorder. Men in the middle of the narrow alley go and come at speed that drew attention, women stretched out their necks in stupid curiosity through the door openings and the window cracks. Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood slaps a hand with another. A man not known to me releases successive sighs that arouse surprise and inquiry. Some breathe out painfully (No power and no strength except by the Almighty God).An old woman.

(I wish she were fine and she recovered soon).

I left my room fast and went to the alley in my sleeping garment (Dishdasha). I forget even to put on my slippers. I met Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood silent and gloomy.


- "What’s the matter, Haj ?" said I.

- "Poisonous case happened to Mrs. Jaleela. I often warned her of fish and its harmful consequences particularly if the weather is hot. May God recover you and give you health, Mrs. Jaleela. Poor good lady."

The old lady completed the rest of sorrow and sadness of folk song in colloquial language about Mrs. Jaleela explaining her glorious deeds in the middle of the alley.

- "A good lady who likes charity for all people. I wish her good health and good return. Oh

God ........... Oh God."
A hot sigh came out of Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood’s mouth :

- "What about the orphan girl ? What’s her destiny ? She was stirred by the shook and was destroyed by fear. Where does she go now ?"

- "It is normal," replied the old woman, "As for her, she more than a kind mother to her child. We are all her relatives. Let her come to me till Jaleela’s return. Wish her good health and fast return safe and for the sake of this poor lady whom she would get lost without her: No father, no mother and no house to contain."

- "Amen ! ........... Amen ! The Most Merciful God," all repeated loudly.

The ambulance tooting faded away gradually till disappeared completely.

- "Who accompanied her to hospital, uncle ?" said I to Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood.

- "Some of the alley women in addition to the girl."

- "Great. Tomorrow they will return to you if God wish and you’ll know from them the hidden secret."

- "What ........... ? What do you say ? Secret .... Which secret do you mean Omar, son of Hummadi ? Speak out. Definitely you know and hide it."

- "Slowly, Haj. Know what ? I meant the women who are alone shall know the secret of this poisoning, whether due to fish or without it or it might be on account of the window."

- "Which window do you mean ?"

- "The window opposite mine. It is the mother of puzzles and misfortunes."

- "What’s the matter with it ? Tell me. May God protect you, tell me !"

- "Whoever knows and whoever doesn’t know, that’s the question."

- "You’re insistent by your questions, Haj. I know nothing about what had happened or what’s happening in this alley. You’re the best to know the behavior of all district even the district mayor himself. Tomorrow you shall know everything. Excuse me Haj. Time is over. I’m afraid I’ll miss the first lecture. Good-bye. Wish me and Jaleela good luck and success. Tomorrow the secret of what’s going on inside you and wish to know will be revealed."


I went up to my upper room, summing up every two steps by one leap till I reached my window. The curtain was similar to a huge wall of a fortified castle, choking the room space and driving away this cursed impudent’s infatuation. I protect myself by being behind it for fear of the greediness of her wild canine teeth and the desire demons blazing in her. I attracted the curtain violently. It was pulled out with its six nails. The morning sun ray flowed. It was marvelous, attractive and gay with colors which I have never witnessed its sweetness before even at our clear beautiful countryside.


I breathed deeply and put on my clothes relying on the Everlasting God with soft heavenly faith spraying my body with a parturition genius April in which good waves and the spring breath becomes green.


Thus Jaleela went away from me and the girl’s rashness cooled off. The cool blood neigh choked. Thirsty persons calmed down. Thirst passed away and tranquility prevailed in the narrow alley except the riddle which was bewildering in the soul of Sabri Abu Mahmood and hard on him all the time. But this doesn’t concern me inasmuch as the neigh that was lying heavily on my window. After today there shall never be any neigh that sneaks to my window. No Jaleela and no girl’s rashness. Everything went out completely but the sun. It remained sending its pure gay ray as usual every morning. Its lines glitter over the narrow alley twists.






(12)


A great deal of men, women and children filled the (University of Mosul) stadium spreading on its high walls. So did flags, colored balloons, wreaths and some of palm leaves on its entrances. Today is the university wedding of new classes of students’ graduation, who were organized in the stadium courtyard in the form of harmonious groups everyone of which is headed by the college flag. All were dressed in the graduation robe putting on a four-sided black cap. The female graduates and behind them the male graduates lined up. Sana was standing in front of me. I tried hard to hide a distress that all of the sudden attacked me while whispering to her but failed. On the contrary Sana did feel it.


- "What’s the matter with you, Omar ?" said she smiling.

- "I don’t believe myself how the days passed and this is the last day we have met. Woe to this gloomy ceremony."

- "Days are still long. Don’t worry. It’s our day’s pleasure and it is our rainless long-year effort harvest : sweet and sour. You have no right to be depressed and annoyed."

- "Let’s meet at least once a week .... a month."

- "Where ?"

- "Let it be the university library an example place of our meeting."

- "If God wish I shall try it. Me too, I don’t want to discontinue studying and following up completely."


I was somewhat pleased with Sana’s future wishes. I wanted to disclose a secret to her but the music of the National Anthem interrupted my desire announcing the arrival of the Minister of Higher Education and Scientific Research accompanied by the university president and some college professors accountable for his reception.


The graduates’ processions were running successively as was drawn to them before the greeting platform. Fathers and brothers were clapping. Women were uttering trilling cries of joy for their sons and daughters. Some kinds scattering roses on the processions some others were taking memorial photographs. Then certificates and valuable gifts were distributed among the superior students. The ceremony ended little by little.


I returned to the misery of my room located in the middle of the narrow alley. There was no sign of graduation delight on my face. I was walking casting lots straying and thinking of Sana and her vision that I was quite sure that I shall never see her.


When I stepped on the alley beginning, Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood and old Uncle, Abu Taha, hurried towards me with spontaneous enthusiasm:

- "Did you bring good news ?"

- "Thanks God ........... I’ve obtained the big degree."

- "Congratulations. Your efforts did not go in vain. By the way, what’s wrong with you? What’s this frowning ? Aren’t you pleased. Young man ?"

- "It’s difficult for me to miss you. You’ve been more than my relatives, good aid and companionship."

- "Don’t worry. We are here with you regardless of the distance."

Uncle Abu Taha cried trying to protect his new denture which he was not accustomed to its falling yet.

- "Today all the tea at the coffeehouse is on my account." "So are the deserts." came after Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood’s speech.

I entered my upper window and put all my needs and necessaries while Jaleela and the girl were glancing at me with broad meaning looks. Jaleela was intending to congratulate me for my success but she kept silent content that her congratulation would be trivial, stupid and tasteless. She lowered her head pretending to be sewing a precise thing. Her eyelids movement increased trying to snipe what I was doing inside my room which I soon left to share the alley citizens of the graduation joy. The eyes of Jaleela as well as the girl were following me questionably and with silence. At daybreak I wrapped up my suitcase intending to return to village when I passed in front of Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood’s shop. I turned round and embraced him crying:


- "I shall not forget you as long as I am alive."

My shadow faded away in front of him when I reached the end of the alley.

I spent my night up. My eyelids did not close. I remained turning around on my bed trying to sleep but it was in vain. The vision of Sana kept on disturbing me all night long: Dreams and distorted imaginations attacked me in which I lost their chopping ends without a lighthouse that can save me from this wonderful sea. But my mother’s shrill, whose echo rang among our simple mud cottage while I was bringing her good news of my graduation from the university, saved me from this current conflict which accompanied me.


- "Congratulations, mother," said I to her. "Now you have the right to show off among women, hang my degree at the living room forefront and boast of me as you wished to do.


I left my suitcase and immediately made for the tombs of my father and my childhood companion, Ghazi Al-Edan. I read the opening chapter of the Holy Koran praying God to offer them mercy and gratification. My mother was wholly engaged in preparing a special banquet. She slaughtered a big male swan for my companions who came from everywhere congratulating and invoking the joy of my graduation which was the pride and brilliance for all in addition to being an encouraging motive to follow my model. She made pancakes and prepared whatsoever she thought might bring delight to the person. That did not make her forget the deceased. So she prepared a variety of food and sweets to be distributed among the poor.


The sun was still a rosy ball trolling between the hands of the horizon. White clouds were taking a walk in the sky slowly. Trees were dancing with the breeze. The herbage was still drowned in the tears dropped by the night dews. Grasshoppers endeavored near the river banks looking for food. Distress lay heavily on my chest. I can not disclose it for fear of being called coward or weak fitness to desert the compulsory service awaiting me. Such a matter is shameful and greatly unforgivable as for countrymen.


Despite the short range of my compulsory service, the distance from Sana was agonizing me. But mother’s call cut the thread of my collapses.

- "Take it easy, son. Everything is destiny."

- "Whom do you mean, mother ?"

- "This girl ........... Saniya ........... Sadiya. I swear I forgot her name."

- "You mean Sana, mother ?"

- "Yes, Sana. It is her name. Precisely."

- "No, mother. I am thinking of the camp and training and the destination we shall go to."

Mother was confident of her son’s lying. She kept silent so as not to move the love distance grieves.

(13)


The graduates arrived in succession at the military training centre in Sinjar Town before sun set dressed in their civilian clothes. Lights were lit everywhere and the halls were full up with junior soldiers. There were small and various-shaped and colored radios spreading on the pillows speaking about everything in a variety of dialects and sounds. Besides, there were angry shouts and meaningless shouts.


There was laughter whispering ringing in my head like a flooded river flow to the extent that I felt heavy dizziness at late hour of that night. Had it not been that for the stimulating uproar of such human intimacy that I needed at this strange place, I should’ve run away and washed my head by the light covering the opposite field or by the worried stars gathering in dark blue sky.


Dark areas disturbed me as if I witnessed inside them horribly-stretched ghosts lurking in me and may be in the others whom I love in particular.


- "Get up .... !" cried corporal Shaheen Ibreesam loudly. All set to wear their new military clothes. Their appearance was funny. Some of their trousers were large while the others’ were either long or short. Some others were not accustomed to wearing such heavy long-necked shoes which they were forced to wear at moving as though they were wading into imaginary mud due to them.

Some of the senior soldiers, who mastered wearing such things, were mocking at the junior ones to the extent that it stimulated indignation on them.

- "Re ........... a ... dy !" cried corporeal Shaheen Ibreesam. He liked his job. He picked up the laggard and made them creep as huge funny worms on thorns and mud making fun of those horrified by the penalty.

When that long day ended and the sun began to set beyond the remote horizon, I became ill secretly and moaned, it might be on account of the pains that my feeble body suffered from or due to the coming darkness and Sana’s vision which did not cease following me. All those who were in the long dark hall fell asleep in deep lethargy like killed fish. They have not yet been accustomed to such fatigue and hard training. Everything inside the hall was radiating unbearable heat : Human bodies fell asleep near one another, the multicolored walls of the memories of the soldiers who dwelled in that hall before and the pushed air to and from open windows.

I felt my knee roasting gradually. I smelled the odor of barbecue mixed with the sweat odor coming out of my feeble body with the hot dust odor. Before sun set, I tried to pick up the thorns plunged into my leg and knee flesh particularly after being penalized by corporeal Shaheen who thought that I was cunning on him when I did not beat the ground by my feet well.

After the training period, I lost my power. I was about to fall down due to fatigue several times. But I feared penalty again. I remained standing at an empty reed played by the platoon corporeal in any way he liked.

When I focused my sight at a star whose light was more fixed than the other ones, I felt that I was travelling alone in it with Sana somewhere while it was in its place with eternal steadfastness. But lethargy conquered me in addition to a small radio buzzing far away and its owner had left it on and had fallen asleep, too. Strange images were breaking into my fortified memory: The corporal’s angry face, a horrible policeman’s nose beats my brother, an unstable dark gap, my mates who laughed at my large trousers that fell down from me suddenly at the training field. Only one picture I was sticking to, like an astray captain, and was not absent from my eye, was the vision of Sana and her two wide eyes. An amazing secret. It may be that love we wish, it may be the only treasure which I dreamed of one day and it may be the eternal forgetting.

(14)


Sana entered the university library hoping to meet Omar. She was looking here and there. Many of the library visitors scattered inside the large hall. Some of them hid their faces among the book pages that they had come for. Others took down notes that drew his attention. Sana remained standing searching even for whom could save her from her bewilderness. She felt a soft fine hand patting on her left shoulder tenderly. Turning round, she met her mate, Ghada who was very pleased to see her. It was similar to a sip of oxygen that saved her from the mind clamor and the thinking dizziness.

- "Hello, Sana."

- "Hello, Ghada. How are you dear ?"

- "Fine. What are you doing ?"

- "I missed you, our college and the study days."

- "And to Omar, too. Come on. Disclose and confess."

- "I missed everything," said Sana smiling. "I decided to visit the library every Saturday so as to keep up with the most up-to-date."

- "Good idea to kill the time weariness. Staying at home is very unbearable but it can not achieve your ambition."

- "That’s correct but it’s the beginning.

- "Sana, I wish you all success."

- "Thanks, Ghada. You are as I knew you before: a lovely mate and faithful sister."

- "What news about Omar ?"

- "I know nothing. But certainly he is conducting the military service as the rest of colleagues who preceded him to the training centers."

- "Let me see you Sana. I always wish to see you, here, in the library, perhaps we’d be lucky enough to meet with whoever saves us from this depression that might strangle us."

- "If God wish ........... Good-bye, beautiful girl."

- "Good-bye, sweet girl."

* * * *

Near the main entrance of Mosul University, Sana met one of her mates and asked him about Omar and his circumstances. He told her that he was taking a course of arms at a training center in Sinjar Town. He visits his family at weekend. He is exhausted and fed up and always asks about you when I meet him.

Sana returned home quite fed up and moaning. There’s no hope to meet Omar except on Thursday which is the library holiday where there is no justification to ask for permission and go to the library.

Sana remained for two months nervous following up her appointment order. She finally worked for Al-Naseem Company for Traveling and Tourism temporarily.

The first days of her work in the company saved her from the routine in which she lived and from the dull normal daily type,

During few days Sana was good at the traveling ticket-selling system and organizing reservations at resorts and tourist hotels. But the company manager and his spectacular method prevented her from working entering in herself suspicion and doubt. The man was an experienced acrobat at sniping girls. He began to show Sana unnecessary offers increasing her allowances and rewards without being convinced.

Sana took an irrevocable decision during her return that afternoon in which the company manager pinched her cheek claiming that she was intelligent and active during the receipt of a tourist group that had just arrived from Baghdad to Al-Sadeer tourist complex. I preferred to stay at home and to be fully ready for postgraduate studies despite the company manager’s continuous insistence, who called her up several times to convince her to give up her sudden decision.

* * * *

- "What’s the matter with you, daughter ?" said mother to her daughter.

- "Nothing, mother. All the thing is that I intended to apply for the postgraduate studies." Sana was hiding her disgust of the company manager’s character and his suspicious behavior. But the mother felt in strangeness her daughter’s refusal and her insistence to refuse but she did not reach the final riddle of the matter essence. She kept silent without commenting anything except a brief answer:

- "it’s up to you, daughter. You know better than I do."


(15)


When I put my hand in my trousers pocket while I was on my way to the camp canteen, I did not get money. I searched all pockets, one after the other. I returned to the sleeping hall and searched long among the bed folding. I searched all the corridors, bathrooms and behind the windows but found nothing. Everything was in vain. Even my shock, however, increased in weight as I was motionless in front of corporeal Shaheen who nodded his head thinking, then he looked at me with one eye side before saying to me quietly provoking the nerves:


- "Do you see that tree ?"

- "Yes, my corporeal."

- "You stand up there on one leg raising your hands on your head till I tell you enough. This is so that you can keep safe your money and needs. Did you understand ?"

- "My corporeal, but ..........."

- "About turn ! ........... Trot !"

The corporeal screamed angrily and I carried out his order immediately. When the platoon accumulated for counting, corporeal Shaheen called me and stretched out his hand. I saw some bank notes in his hand.

- "Did you find them, my corporeal ?" said I to him happily.

- "Stand in attention so that I may not penalize you again."

- "Yes, my corporeal." said I to him erected before him like a spear.

- "Take. This is not your money. I’ve collected it from your companions in the platoon. Watch out not to repeat it again ! Understood ?"

- "Yes, my corporeal."

* * * *

The next day morning as usual, the sound reveille was barking high in the junior soldiers’ ears while competing in putting on their clothes and going out for the morning inspection within five minutes when they could have accomplished their face shaving and put their beds in order. Woe unto the one who comes late for the decided date !


I sat the under the burning sun’s ray, learning from my companions stripping and mounting the mechanism rifle Klashinkov. Sticky sweat lines were flowing from my head to my neck; and from my armpit to my waist while I was about to melt with my nervous memory and Sana as if I were anticipating a new penalty.


I was looking through the tight black opening of the rifle barely believe that only a very small piece of tough lead mass sent out of this tube can kill a complete man, by his screams, power, weakness, haughtiness, by his ability to love and hate; his marriage, procreation and work ........... any work.


I was feeling that my body was merely a soft mass of flesh and bone, unable to move; any movement clamors with pain, sweat odor and roasting. I was turning my back towards the sun in search for any abandoned plant or a dry thorn by which I draw on the sand meaningless pictures. Since my joining the training center, I was not engaged in a worthwhile relationship with any of the soldiers. Even my companions in the squad thought that I was a complicated young man; therefore they kept away from me.


I stretched out my stony limbs on bed at noon time approximately one o’clock. I closed my eyes trying to look for a practical answer for that question which disturbed me, trying at the same time to forget my feeling of alienation against such hard military rituals I keep very few of when one of my squad persons came unexpectedly upon me shouting:


- "Are you here, your Highness, the Prince ? Come on ... lunch ... your turn, Pasha ! Your turn is today and you pretend that you’ve forgotten. The squad shall not eat on account of you and your Highness do not yield and be kind enough to bring the food to the squad. Ha .... Say who you are that do not go ! ........... Ha ...........

Had some of the companions not intervened at the suitable instant, disengaging this unjustifiable quarrel, he would have quarreled.

Meeting the squad corporeal guilty, I confessed that I had forgotten my turn in bringing the food for the squad. This shall not be repeated.

- "One hour at attention ! ........... Come on." cried the corporeal reprimanding.

- "Yes, my corporeal."

Thus I passed the siesta hour standing motionless under the sun flame angry of everything, absolutely everything even of myself !

I remained sad due to that big offense that I committed on the men’s squad. I deprived them of lunch ........... my cursed memory despite my swearing to the corporeal that no one had told me of my turn to fetch the food. My sin was amplifying inside myself whenever I saw one of my companions looking at me blaming, or trying to get rid of his anger by having the other squad remains of food. Secretly, I swore not to repeat that error again at all, not owing to fear of the penalty that might be imposed by the platoon corporeal but for fear of those hungry eyes that arouse sympathy, or those angry ones in the eyes of the companions who appeared to be that I had failed them. I went to bed hungry, too. Nightmares followed me in succession till everything got mixed. I remained in bed like a florescent fish gazing through the window at the sky full of instable-lighted, ambiguous stars and of secret which I felt that they were themselves mocking at me from their far away orbit while the sleeping horn was mourning, too, calling attention to one of the damned military rituals which I began to disgust due to my continuous failure in conducting them.


(16)


Firyal arrived home with uneasiness and distress features bursting from her exhausted eyeballs. She spent her day in the bank where she works at Al-Zuhoor District in nonsense and argument with the manager who ordered to delegate her for a temporary period to the bank branch at Al-Qayara Province so as to conduct the accumulated accounts saying:

- "You were not nominated futily but your competence at work made us select you not the rest of the female officials. Such a choice ought to make you happy. Surely it is a definite motive for your future promotion."

- "Sir. The distance is very far away and it requires an effort in addition to wasting the time on the way to the bank."

- "Madam, it is only one week and you’re worthy of it."

Firyal kept silent but Sana provoked her saying:

- "What’s the matter with you, bank female manager ?"

- "So you are ........... making fun of everything !"

- "But I didn’t hear anything from you worth ridicule. Come on. Confess. I’m your younger sister who can help you. Come on. Don’t be shy."

- "With what can you help me, learned Mistress: by poetry or by the mu’allaqat you memorize or by the reference books you read ?"

- "I shall accompany you, my love, to Al-Qayara Bank every day."

"Correct .... ?"

- "And help you as far as possible, and meanwhile I liberate myself from this boring routine that is about to choke me."

* * * *

Firyal was pleased with Sana’s account and was about to be carried away with joy. She was the best comfort and support to her on the long way not knowing that Sana did that so as to meet Omar who told her so much about his village and the road leading to it from Mosul to Hammam Al-Aleel and then to the Province of Al-Qayara, then turns to the other bank of the River Tigris, the orchards stretching along two banks of the river in addition to the large nomads tents set up during all spring season.


In the morning Sana was sitting next to her sister inside the car rented by the bank. Sana was a little bit happy with her eyes turning right and left while the car was crossing Albuseif twists then the town of Hammam Al-Aleel till we reached the Province of Al-Qayara.


She was searching among masses of people whom she met while walking in the street. Firyal’s voice interrupted her confusion:

- "As if you saw the road for the first time ! How often we had gone out during spring aiming at Hammam Al-Aleel and bathing in its mineral water. Did you forget ?"

- "I did not forget but some landmarks have changed now."

- "How ? Look at these houses. They were not existing before neither was this mosque nor that factory."

- "Nothing worth interest."

- "O .... Look, Firyal, at this herd of sheep. How beautiful it is ! Look at this lamb. How wonderful it is hopping !"

- "Whoever hears you thinks that you are a kindergarten or a primary school child."

- "God forgives you. Silence is better. Let’s please ourselves for some time. It’s better than sitting at home."

- "Who told you to quit your job at the tourist company ?"

- "You understand nothing but the computer, savings tables, cheque organizing and this is a reward for my accompanying you !"

- "Don’t be foolish. I’m kidding with you. We’re killing the time."


(17)


Officers and corporals were competing to prepare the training field and plant colored in accordance with their proper places. Every color indicated a specific platoon. The orchestra, composed of horn blowers and drummers, took their allotted places, while the big drum rose to the right of the orchestra alone as usual in accordance with the ordinary course.

It was an ominous day of strange matters. There were preparations that did not happen every day. But no sooner had we been informed that there would be a (parade) than the camp commander would have personally attended it. The distinguished platoons shall be awarded a leave from that afternoon till the coming Friday evening. The tagging ones shall remain to get additional training during those days.

- "Newcomers ........... Action !"

- "Bad ........... Unify movement," cried one of the officers through a loudspeaker, "Attention !"

- "Rest !"

- "Newcomers ..... Action !"

- "Slope arms ! Movement from the right in the parade system. First company precedes ........... Right turn !"

The drums beat in such beautiful and distinguished harmony that rose activity and enthusiasm among souls.

- "Unify movement ........... Line up ........... Your ear with the big drum ........... This is good. Go on ........... Left right ........... Left right."

* * * *

The military formations commenced marching in a circle round the training field till the rifles became heavy in our hands and on our shoulders and sweat our clothes. We were worried about the results we would obtain ........... beat the ground, dust under our boots came up to enter our noses, mouths and our ear openings with no one’s dearing to complain, confess of fatigue or spit on the ground. I expected to be given a break in the second hour at the time when my ears were ready to hear the order therein but in vain. I was watching three directions at the same time: forwards, northwards and right side for fear of getting off the row and the order of marching might be deformed. Fearing that my step might deviate from the platoon steps, I began to beat the ground hard.


- "More active, good, excellent heroes, stronger," shouted corporeal Shaheen, arousing enthusiasm and chivalry among his platoon soldiers.

At one instant I fancied that the platoon has changed into a one being with tens of feet, arms and hot rifles, led forward by the platoon corporeal who did not get tired of encouraging the soldiers and kindling their enthusiasm. It seemed to me that that parade would not stop unless our feet faded away using up the last firebrand of our forces in which drums were digging up to the roots.

At the first training hour of the next day morning, I felt that our platoon corporeal was proud of us. Our serial was second in the parade march. My limbs were dangling as they liked at moments. At others, I was able to move them to spots which he absolutely didn’t like. May be it was for that reason why I stumbled and was about to fall down when corporeal Shaheen told us that we could carry our small bags and set out in regular jogging to the camp main entrance provided that we should return next Friday before sun set.


Passing the main camp entrance jogging as the platoon corporeal wished and seeing cars, buildings and people in their very pretty colored civilian clothes, I was confident that I was coming to them from another strict world to the harshness level till I felt ill. May be it was due to the domestic city smells which I missed for ages or may be it was the fatigue that I was influenced by due to the parade march or it may be because I was obliged to stand up for a long time at the (garage) awaiting a car going to Zeidan Al-Khalaf Al-Luheibi’s Village.


I don’t know which super power lifted that fatigue from me, which I was suffering from during the last days inside the training camp. But it was a superstitious power undoubtedly. I was unable to stay home for approximately two hours. I put on my civilian clothes then I went to the village market where my brother traded cigarettes the pavement.

My brother Awad was startled when he saw me. He rushed towards me and kissed me then he released ironic laughter as usual:

- "What’s this, Omar ? Painted you !" said he probing parts of my body that was influenced by the sun more than the others. "At first," he kept on the same ironic spirit, "I didn’t know you. They’ve mowed your head pretty well like a sheep ! How horrible you are ! I imagine no girl throughout the entire world shall be able to stand looking at this frightening character. They’ve made you striped like a zebra !"

Then he started laughing as he was going away from me and approaching me as if he had seen a real animal. Whenever I talked, he hinted at me asking me to keep silent so that he could speak.


- "But be at ease, Farooq’s father," inquired he putting cigarette packets in a nylon bag without caring to someone who came to buy a packet from him, "I’m confident that you’ll obtain a bravery medal in the first battle you take part in. I know you and my heart tells me so."

- "Aren’t you afraid of the police, Omar ?"

- "No."

- "What ? Do you carry an amulet that protects you from them ?"

- "I’ve got a stamped and sealed permission from the camp commander."

- "You’ve turned absolutely a real soldier."

* * * *

When I wandered in Al-Qayara Province and met close friends whom I’ve been away from a long time, I glanced the shadow of Sana sitting next to her sister inside a bus going to Mosul. My feet stood as if pinned to the ground. I applied myself eagerly to the news agent pretending to be reading it.


I feared that she might see me in such a miserable condition. I wished that my leave had been over before Sana could see me. I passed the main camp gate at ten a.m. Saturday. My feeling in guilt increased with every step I took, assuming that incomparable penalties would be inflicted on me by my corporeal.


I found my companions gathering on the training field despite its being the morning break time. I entered the platoon reverse row but the corporeal glanced me in the eyes like those of a hawk was about to swoop down on its prey. He pointed out by his forefinger to advance towards him.

- "Absent ........... Ha ........... !?" asked he ironically.

- "Yes, corporeal." I replied him surrendering and my heart was about to removed from my chest.

- "Don’t tell me you couldn’t find a car in the garage because it is an old excuse which my ears were full up with it."

- .........................................

- "Say ?"

- ................................

I was unable to relay on another excuse; therefore I kept silent at my spot.

- "Go back to the row." said the corporeal looking with a side of his way at me then whispered threatening.

I turned round in a regular, acute and strong turn perhaps he might sympathize with me as a good and active soldier in the training. But instead of beating the ground by my lifted upwards, I beat the other foot violently producing a depressed cry that made the companions in the platoon laugh paying attention to what I did. I entered the row feeling pain hurting my toes. The embarrassment of that wrong foolish movement was about to make me blind of what surrounded me. All of the sudden my name was called over the loudspeaker.

- "Yes, ........... sir !" shouted I at the top of my voice.

I remained standing like a fool.

- "Come on ! Move ........... Jog ........... Go there !" cried the platoon corporeal

He pointed out to a group of soldiers standing in three rows.

I jogged towards it hobbling in such a way that it aroused a tempest of depressed laughter.

- "Are you shifted, too ?" asked me a soldier there

- "Ha ........... I don’t know. I answered him surprisingly.

He tightened his lips mocking at me after staring at me by a look through which he understood that I was slow in comprehending and that the hard training had influenced my mental capabilities. But I was relieved a little bit when I understood the meaning of the unusual gathering. I ascertained I was rescued from at least a definite penalty which the platoon corporeal threatened me by a few minutes before.

Half an hour of boring standing and waiting, a major, accompanied by a corporeal working in the camp administration center carrying under his arm sheets of paper, came and stood in front of us. Then he read an urgent telegram arrived at the camp that morning including consent of the Minister of Defence to delegate the soldiers, graduates of Humanity Studies, for postgraduate studies, each at his desire and his own account.


This item of news burned the wick of hope blazing in my chest, whose ambition was about to cool off and fade away as long as I remembered the length of the compulsory service that I would spend in the army units after the decided training period at the camp. I eagerly expected the hour through which I could convey this good news to my family at village.


(18)


I stood among the thirteen soldiers in organized coordination in front of our low steel black beds silent and foolish, looking like a herd of goats feeling towards the mountains, not knowing what would happen to us. Everyone was searching for his stray riddle in the hall ceiling, puzzled in the clamor of notions and anticipation that might surprise him as the one of the morning news which blew up whatsoever was in his mind, turning the accounts upside down without prior notice, The army is a spot of surprise, secrets and speed without knowing the reason. May be military life made me dizzy as I was not accustomed to its type, or may be it was the cry and scream for something or nothing or it may be mere clamor and echo which did not matter.


My companions and I were startled as if an electric wire had shocked me or a flaming skewer adhered to my neck on the corporeal’s shout ringing in the middle of the hall:

- "Stand fast ........... squad ! Action !"

The hall floor rang on the unified rhythm of our feet sound. The corporeal turned in a brisk and artistic movement giving the military salute standing fast shouting:

- "The squad is ready for inspection, sir !"

- "At ease !" replied the company commander in a quiet voice, "Rest !"

The first company commander captain was accompanied by the subsistence corporeal, person in charge of secretariat and a dark-complexioned military policeman from the southern governorates with two crooked mustaches in such a way that drew attention.

- "For sure," said the captain, "you knew the noble deed of Mr. Minister of Defence to you and you are worthy of it. I hope you benefitted at least from something at this camp during this very short period. Besides, you learned some patience, discipline, accuracy in work and respect to time which is the most important thing.

After handing over your acquaintance to the subsistence corporeal, the secretariat person in charge will give you a copy of the official order by which you call on the recruitment office, everyone as for his zone and domicile place so as to mark, wishing you good luck."

- "Stand fast ........... squad ! Action !" cried the corporeal and gave the military salute to the company commander who left the sleeping hall immediately accompanied by a twisted-mustache military policeman. "At ease ! Rest !"

The subsistence corporeal advanced and spread out a large blanket in the middle of the hall calling the supply names one after the other. Whenever he read a name of them, everyone of us threw the material in the middle of the large blanket till all the items finished. We signed deeply. I shook hand with corporeal Shaheen and embraced him.

- "I shall never forget you," said I, "I’ve learned a lot, a lot."

- "Good luck and success." replied the corporeal proudly.

* * * *

I set out like a shining arrow towards the bus stop feeling that my legs had become as light as a bird feather. The parade march pains and spasm no longer existed for ever.

After less than half an hour, I could have reached Algayara Recruitment Centre. Before official working hours ended, I held the official order, addressed to Mosul University Presidency / Scientific Affair Department, tightly in my right hand. Early in the morning I achieved the requisites at the College of Arts, filling out all required forms, in the mean time trying, as far as I could to avoid meeting Sana as I was in that strange appearance. Then I shifted to the presidency building and took an appointment to call on them after three days and then went back to my village immediately.

In the evening, I sat down among my family pale and puzzled in something:

- "What’s wrong with you, son ?" inquired mother as she was pouring tea in the small tea cups.

- "Let him, mother," replied Awad mocking as usual." He is flying up with Sana."

- "Bail," I smiled putting an end that suspicion and false accusation." Bail, mother. A guarantor is required from me. I may travel abroad."

Mother beat her chest and yelled anxiously saying," Alas ........... Faheema, daughter of Egab !"

- "Easy, mother. Am I going to the battle field ?

Do you want my return to the training centre or my obtaining a higher degree by which you pride yourself on before people ? Be with me, mother, and help me get out of this impasse which did not occupy any space in my mind not did I take it into consideration you, Awad, do think and try with me. May be you find me a way out of this misfortune. I suffer from fear whenever I imagined failure and missing the chance which shall not report itself at all.

- "Of course," replied Awad in a serious tone, it is a significant chance which never occurred before. It must not be neglected.

A period of heavy silence passed an Awad was smoking his cigarette quietly with concentration while I was leaning on the cylindrical white pillow as usual glaring at the door ceiling, trying very hard to solve the talismans of this sudden affliction and this ringing which does not fade away. Mother went to cook us supper.

- "I found it !" should Awad happily.

- "How ? Tell us please."

- "Shut up, you Zebra. After supper we shall go together. Our destination will be good God willing. Come on ........... Eat. Don’t think. It has got an organizer.

After the evening prayer, we were in the housing of Hasan Alilheibi, a good-natured and generous officer. I told him about my affliction and predicament that I was suffering from and on which my future depended on.

- "Bring glad tidings, said the man," the subject is easy and I am the guarantor. Don’t worry.

When I returned home preceded by Awad who brought glad tidings to my mother who kept on sitting on the house threshold, very patiently awaiting the result of our visit to Sheikh Zeidan Aliheibei’s salon.


Four days after that pleasant meeting, I was standing at Alqayara Railway Station waiting for the train coming from Mosul to Baghdad. Brother Awad stood beside me and did not quit commenting on every simple and big thing happening before him, which was not free from his impudent and bitter tongue.


I dozed for a while after the ticket tester had passed by me. When I awoke, I felt hungry. The coach was so unbearably hot that sweat wetted my clothes. I felt thirsty and was ashamed of requesting water from the old man sitting close to me. But the noble man felt me and handed me over a glass of water which I put in my mouth all at the same time. He smiled at me and gave me another cup.

- "Thanks uncle. That’s enough."

Then I took a small packet out of my bag in which rested three boiled eggs, a piece of potato and four tomatoes. I prepared two sandwiches and insisted that the old man who apologized very much to participate with me but he did not succeed in convincing me.

The frantic train passed Tikrit city, my eye lids became heavy and I fell asleep deeply.

* * * *

(((Like a wild flower with surpassing beauty, Sana appeared in our village of two large pure honey-colored eyes in which I saw my God’s great ability in his creation. I got dizzy. I felt that I was less than what I was thinking of myself. When I told them I was going hunting, they refused coming with me for several various excuses. That night I could not sleep. I stayed up among wolves feeling that I was looked after twice : the government wanted my head and I did not want to sleep. No one paid attention to her in the village. Students were started at her beauty. So were women. How many distances have I crossed walking on foot ? On dark and moony nights, in the rain and without it, hot and cold, I feared nothing to leave behind wherever I went. But their grief that had gone all of a sudden remained inquiring into my memory :


- "Why did they await that I conduct that trip ?" They said, "young Alilheibi, got crazy. We saw in his eyes lovers’ worry. Tents lines, songs and Gypsies dances enchanted him. His body became feeble and was less active. His horses no longer competed with the bullet nor did his hand compete with his old friend, Ghazi Aleedan. He joined the College of Arts at the time of sand grouse reproduction in the harvest season. In whisper and publicly, in the village, about her. They said speeches. Bidoor herself confessed that in the twists of Wadi, Alqasab⁽¹⁾ : Darling, my rose, my enchantress, I thought you would be safe from their plots. I was alone thinking which plot they might be conducting then ? I never got any reply.


Come on, my friend melt our grieves in dabkat⁽²⁾. It is said that she associated with fairies at night. But I swear that some shepherds saw her in a party of fairies near Ali Jadie’s orchard. She was dancing to them. She was their possession. They said it was a love shock that might be deformed by a hag old Gypsy woman who passed that day begging food. Strong narcissus scent





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(1) Valley of reeds

(2) Sort of collective dancing


emanated, crowned her place among reeds, papyrus and the river bank. I was carrying a big grief which I knew no interpretation of. Whoever looked at the death of her eyes saw himself on a field of wheat about to be harvested.


I remained following Gypsies and magic writers, may be I recover from my grief. But no one soothed me from the hell that burned in my inside. I also remained dancing wild animals, fairies and women thirsty for love. After my brother’s going on (Bar Invasion) without return, what did they want from me now ? I realized that it was my fate : to remain pursued and dismissed at the same time. I addicted myself to all liberated spaces. Besides, I addicted myself to the freedom granted by deserts alone. Men’s and women’s plots expanded. The village has become apprehensive about children, animals and planting from fairies in which narcissus smell exists, outside the travelled roads ..... ))).


I awoke from my heavy nightmare at the sound of coaches collision and the steel blocks fluttering with one another during the train stop at Balad Railway Station. I fidgeted a little bit and my exhausted bones crackled due to sleeping on that damned narrow seat.

- "You were snorting all night long. You seemed as if you had been tried the day before."

- "Yes, my trip was long till I could achieve my dealing."

- "Good. God willing !"

- "A scholarship abroad."

- "Good luck. Good willing."

- "God prolong your life."

Two hours after the official working time commencement, I could have completed submitting my required documents to the Faculty of Scholarships at the Ministry of Higher Education & Scientific Research in Baghdad. Then I returned to my village which I reached at the evening call to prayer provided that I should return to Mosul University after approximately twenty days.


(19)


Longing and returning to the past drew me, therefore I decided in myself to visit the narrow alley and my upper room during my continues following up to Mosul University in order to know the postgraduate candidate nomination results.


Treaded on the beginning of the alley, I was received embraced by Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood and uncle Abu Taha. After friendly reproach and a long question, I told them that I had been a soldier at the training centre. Then I was excused so as to achieve my ambition to obtain a higher degree after spending two months in difficult training that I had never used to previously.


The alley citizens insisted that I spend that night among them in my upper room which had never yet been rented.

It was a wonderful night which Alhaj Sabri enjoyed very much until he closed his shop and said, "Good-bye". I was invited for supper with uncle Abu Taha at his small coffeehouse. Then I returned to my upper room which was much affected by dust and spiders. I opened the window, the one of immortal neigh, that window which I spent year resisting the crazy woman’s agitation. On the curtain stridulation, Jaleela opened her window:

- "Haleema⁽¹⁾ returned to her old room. How are things ? Where have you been ........... ? What’s this lean that ruined your body ?"

- "I completed my compulsory service."

- "So, you were a soldier (Abu Khalil)⁽²⁾ . No benefit from you. Why did you come back then ? Longing ? Ah ........... How sweet returning to him is !⁽³⁾

- "Guest. Don’t you welcome a guest ?"

- "Welcome, guest, pets of God’s guest, spirit. Yes, by God !"⁽⁴⁾

- "We welcomed so much several times but in vain."

- "What do you want from abroad ?"

- "Why ?"

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(1) A popular proverb which means that someone can not give up what he or she is got used to doing.

(2) A popular nick name used for a soldier.

(3) A line from a famous song.

(4) A line from a famous song.


- "I’m leaving soon. As soon as I arrive, I’ll send you a greeting card. This is a promise from me."

- "Where to are you going, long-aged ?"

- "I don’t know yet."

- "Do you have interests abroad ?"

- "No, but I’m going for postgraduate studies."

- "A strange thing, deaf-hearted genius people come out of this gloomy room !

- "Good night".

Sana opened her mouth open astonished when we met at the university library entrance. She was stirred by the surprise which she did not expect when I planned to go out and return home.

- "You see to follow a special diet. What’s the matter with you, ill ?"

- "Welcome, Sana. Oh ! ........... How much I longed for you during the past days when I was at the training centre and your vision stuck to my imagination !

- "What’s this lean ?"

- "This is the army : fatigue, effort, toil and endless duties".

- "I spent a complete week going with my sister to Al-Rasheed bank in Alqayara, perhaps I might see you. But my good omen lost ground".

In my secret I smiled and did not tell her how I avoided seeing her when she passed in front of me that day.

- "What are you doing now ?"

- "I submitted my documents to the Faculty of Scholarship in Baghdad and now I am waiting for the nomination result which will arrive soon from the ministry. Did you open a conversation with your family about our subject ?"

- "How do I, Omar, ? How ? Tell me what shall I tell them ? Suppose I opened it with them and let you come to ask for my hand and consent was obtained, where shall marriage be held ? In the village or here in Mosul and you and I possess nothing ? Let our dialogue be sensible and logical, Omar.

- "Well, let it be a marriage contract at least.

- "Father does not agree to such a procedure."

- "Then how can I get in touch with you ?"

- "I don’t know. Leave it to days."

- "What about keeping in touch through Firyal at the bank under the name Fatima, a Sudanese female student who studied with us ?"

- "I can’t. It may cause me an embarrassment therein."

- "Then, how ?"

- "..........."

- "You closed all outlets and doors and killed all hope banners in myself. Thus you are as I knew you : no decision, no opinion, continuous hesitation, constant worry and endless confusion. Nothing to land on, and no aim to look forward to since our meeting and I take no right no falsehood from you. You miscarried the supreme light which I was patient for, bearing all types of torture and agonies. You have become like a southern song I hear inside a collapsing bus, weariness in weariness:

-Your love made me confused.

-Neither landing nor flying.

-I came to ask about you.

-There’s no news from you.

-It neither happened no changed.

- "I’ve buried my dreams in an instable gap. Do say it frankly : (You and your God go and fight and here we are sitting)⁽¹⁾ Good-bye. Good luck".

* * * *

After the evening prayer, I entered my upper room. I lit the light. A trivial Lebanese song from a tape recorder became louder in my ear:

-O mum ..... O pa pa.

-For God’s sake .... come to me.

-My heart bust out into flames.

-Fetch me the fire brigade.

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(1) A chapter of the Holy Koran.


The girl had put on a transparent wet in water black underwear skirt whose fine pores had adhered to the tender-skinned body details as she was swaying in desperate art as if someone were displaying whatsoever remained with him of unsold goods and no one would buy even though what keeps the body and soul together or moisten his salvia.


I had a date Uncle Abu Taha and some companions whom I would meet at the small coffeehouse. I left my room immediately.


The next day morning I had simple breakfast at the rusty barrows selling debased (Falafil)⁽¹⁾ near (Suq Al-Haraj)⁽²⁾ at (Bab Al-Tob) zone. Then I shifted to the bus stop aiming at the university presidency. My delight was great when one of the colleagues informed me that the admitted-name list had arrived the day before to the Scientific Affair Department. It was distributed among the colleges concerned. Immediately I went to the College of Arts where I saw my name within the list hung on the advertisement list. My serial was seventh as follows :


7.Omar Hamadi Ali Khalaf Al-Luheibi / Cairo University / College of Arts / Arabic Language.

Before evening prayer, I conveyed the item of news to my family and then to the village citizens. My hand was enthusiastically and with pride holding the green passport at the time my mother’s tears "were irrigating the year furrows that had gone for ever long before. My brother, Awad, was dancing happily and chanting:

^{- "Congratulations ! You shall see Suad Husni, Layla Alawi and Noor Al-Shareef. (3)}


Read us the opening chapter of the Holy Koran at our Master Al-Hussein, Al-Mursi Abu Al-Abbas and Mrs. Zeinab. After evening prayer my brother, Awad, and I were extending thanks, love and gratitude to the officer, Hasan Zeidan Khalaf Al-Luheibi and his unforgettable

noble deed.


(20)

“

My heart beat when the aeroplane, Ibn Khaldoon wheels touched the Cairo Arial Airport run way. I didn’t know then. Perhaps it might be due to delight, fear, surprise, the unknown, or alienation and remoteness. That was the first time I had travelled abroad by plane throughout my life. But, on the whole, it was an interesting but somewhat ambiguous fear.


Passengers began to unfasten their safety belts and became free from them. Some of them started to leave the Boeing 737 successively. With the first ladder step my right foot touched, I read the first chapter of the Holy Koran, faithfully requesting God to crown my task by faith and success. It was a good omen that my eye ball smeared with Kohl by the Holy Koran chapter hung on the big airport front :

( Enter Egypt Secured, God Willing )


I arrived at the external airport gate after finishing the passport and arrival at procedures. I stood up having a look with administration and worry at this clamorous sea of mixed people of every race and color, arriving and leaving and at the big and small buses which carried various colors in addition to several long addresses. Continues call sounds, coming out of loudspeakers, did not stop at all so as to have rest.


I got on the first bus standing by me after making sure of the bus conductor that it would reach downtown. My eyes enjoyed seeing lofty buildings in addition to the erected lined up advertisement on right and left of the wide street taken by the bus.


More than an hour later, I was wandering in Suleima Basha’s Square taking very good care of the bag and the money for fear “of loss or pick-pocketing. I was glad when I found my long-desired objective : (Omaya Hotel). I ascended the stairs and requested a room for two days. After a short rest, I washed my face, put my needs in order and went to the fat man sitting behind the reception platform. He was a Syrian nationality, kind-hearted, good-humored, tending to jokes and joy and smoked hubble, hubble heavily. The man quaffed the blue smoke lines in such sips that one might imagine that the smoke clouds would soon go out of his two nostrils, two ears and two eyes.


The swollen potbelly Syrian man was of great value in lots of matters which I was ignorant about. He guided me to good places I could go to, safe districts, clean restaurants, entertainment areas and empty free of riot and noise coffeehouses.


- "Now, return your watch one hour backwards." said the fat man as he was sipping the smoke once more. "The difference between Baghdad and Cairo is one hour." Then he kept on his conversation with me:

- "Where have you decided to reside ?"

- "Till now I don’t know where to go, where to reside and whom to ask ... I don’t know."

- "Listen, generous brother. You’re inexperienced and naive you’re not good at the art of playing with an egg and a stone as Egyptians say. When you master it, you may have lost a lot and a lot. So my advice to you; Mr. stranger, and no stranger except the devil that the address resting in your pocket shall neither do you good nor serve your goals. There’s no benefit in them. Tear them and throw them in the waste basket. Let’s discuss logically and rationally as they say. Some of those addresses with you and which you have taken from some uneducated colleagues who know nothing about Egypt which is different from the one before. Today it is twenty million persons. For example : where are you from Roxy at Masr Al-Jadeedah ? Or from

Al-Baloon Theatre at Al-Ajooza or Al-Muhandiseen or from Al-Zamalik, Imbaba, Al-Ma'adi, Garden City or Shubra ? All these areas I mentioned to you do not serve your aim, nor do they achieve your wish for which you’ve come bearing due to it the burden of expatriation and departure. You, my companion, have to look for an apartment or a pension at Al-Duqi or Al-Jeeza. It’s a place near the university in which you’ll study, where you need no transportation, meanwhile save time, comfort and security. Listen. I know someone called Hanafi Abu Fat'hi. He is a broker of real estate. But he’s impostor and greedy. Beware him.
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(1) A popular cheap meal

(2) A popular market where new and second hand things are sold

(3) Famous Egyptian actors and actresses

As far as I’m concerned, I prefer you the pension where good services, clean food and security are available. Why don’t you go to Camellia’s pension ? Try. You won’t lose anything. May God make it your fate by which you achieve your goal. Come on. Take this paper and write down the following address : (6-Haroon Street / Camellia’s Pension / Near Aswaq Tamatim).


I became very much happy with the fat man’s idea. I was convinced with it completely. It, in fact, secures the aim I came for so as to achieve my desires.


After less than an hour, I was walking along a wide street at Al-Duqi zone. Well-set buildings on the right, holding even numbers and those on the left held odd numbers, drew my attention. Then suddenly came to my hearing the Cairo University clock ringing. It was a good omen.


As soon as I pressed the door bell, a face of a flabby cheeked fat lady, speaking broken Arabic, appeared through the fanlight. Afterwards, I knew about her Greek origin. After several questions and inquires addressed to me by her, I replied her with bashfulness flowing from my eyes. My hands were shivering while drinking coffee in the living room, causing cup cracklings which Madame Camellia tried to avoid. Then she allotted me a room on the ground floor which was wide and comfortable, headed by a window overlooking the main street on the corner opposite a small table, a chair, a wardrobe and a bath. On the other corner a clean big bed completely different from that tottering steel one which I passed four dry years inside Jaleela and her girl’s narrow lane.


I become acquainted with the pension guests after moving to it, thanking the fat Syrian man whom I shall never forget his good deed throughout my life I’ve liked him since our first meeting.

“

In the pension lodged a Jordanian businessman called Mansoor Al-Haik, an old man who appeared to be an old official, living on his pension salary as well as on the expenditure sent to him by his son and his daughter-in-law, residents of Canada, in addition to a twenty-four girl from Aleppo, studying English language at the College of Arts / Cairo University.


In the evening I sat down to supper greeting everyone and introducing myself to them. They all responded my greeting except the old man who was heavy in hearing and unable to move.


Muna was glad to have met me. She was studying for an M.A. Degree at college itself. When all sat in the living room having tea and watching an interesting Egyptian T.V. program, I was warmly and deeply discussing with her matters concerning college, system of study, professors, attendance time, students’ average and services rendered by college to postgraduate study students.


Early in the morning Muna was accompanying me to Cairo University Campus walking. Every now and then she pointed out by her soft forefinger the road landmarks: This is Cairo University and that’s Juneinat Al-Orman, there’s the statute of Egypt Renaissance and to the south are the University Bridge and Al-Jeeza Security Department.


Muna had sweet voice, lovely speech. She was dressed up neatly, besides being good-natured and polite. From the first meeting I felt that she was of good origin and of a good family. Smiles did not leave her wonderful mouth Her face was round in the wheat grain color, washed by the morning dew. Long brown hair danced behind her straight back.


Muna and I were moving. She was as light as a butterfly in. Her slim without stoutness stature, filled with delight and pride in the support she offered the student just coming from remote borders.


I spent my night writing letters to my mother, my professor and Sana. From an elegant stall near the university gate, I bought four congratulation postcards: The first for Alhaj Sabri Abu Mahmood and the rest are for uncle Abu Taha, Jaleela and Firyal, signed by Fatima, the Sudanese female student.


It was a hard and tiring day. I spent a long time fulfilling my university joining matters before the definite time. Muna had a memorable role in supporting me and solving most of the obstacles that faced me during applying for admission in such a way that raised her status and admiration in myself. Then I went to bed a little bit before supper. I did not have a share with the pension guests in watching the new film performed by Noor Al-Shareef for his creative role in (Zaman Hatim Zahran).


(21)


Study at the college of Arts systematized and I began to struggle time with my supervising professor Dr. Farooq Basyooni, busying my day between my professor and several university libraries, sometimes leaving college and aiming at Ain Shams and Al-Azhar libraries : neither meals nor hope in such a way that Madame Camellia imagined I spent my night outside the pension. She missed me very much in the living room and not watching T.V. especially Thursday night show which could not be neglected.

* * * *

I sent Sana several letters but there was no reply except one letter from my Mosul University professor thanking me and urging me for study to obtain a result that would raise the heads and would please all. But Awad sent me his familiar hot-joked letters and the village news step by step every two or three weeks.


Days passed and winter came while I was struggling continuously and perservantly so as to achieve my supreme goal and Muna with me supporting me band by hand and guiding me in lots of matters. She has preceded me to Cairo since not a too bad period of time before my coming to it. But I fell ill for three nights due to a cold that made me unable to move or sit. Muna accompanied me during all that period of illness providing me with remedy after remedy till I recovered and continued my study with determination and interest substituting whatsoever I missed of research, studies and duties.

* * * *

One night while we were in the living room Muna said to me, "Tomorrow, if God willing, you are invited with me to supper in my professor, Dr. Shawqi Abu Aouf’s apartment at Al-Zamalik District-Shajarat Al-Dur Street near the gas filling station, what’s your opinion ?"


- "As long as you are with me, I agree straight forward."

The following day evening, we were ascending the bright marble stairs leading to the professor’s apartment where his daughter, Susan was at the door waiting for us. She was playful wearing tight pants which I did not know how she could enter her legs into them, in addition to a light sweater revealing her upper part of the chest and her two projecting breasts on which a brown-colored icon was swinging on their feet very freely.


The cracking of chewing gum did not part with the girl’s mouth neither did her false aristocratic speech part with foreign vocabulary which made the dinner party dull and cold, in between such evident affection and artificial conceit from the daughter and her mother whose rusty face was painted by all cosmetics that made us compl pension etc our supper at a popular restaurant in which I longed for my mother’s food, (Thareed) and (Dleimiya) which she used to prepare for me every Friday afternoon after the prayer.

* * * *

Examinations and research followed in succession and I was trying very hard so as to obtain a better result. Once I was surprised by Susan’s visit to the College of Arts. She invited me under insistence to attend her birthday party at Shebird Hotel by the Nile. I accepted the invitation without informing Muna therein.


It was a mixed party of young boys, girls and different-shaped women who went dancing and hugging others in such a way that lost all meanings of modesty and bashfulness.


Amidst this loose atmosphere and ambiguous music, the pure bright vision of Muna appeared studying in expatriation land thousands of kilometers faraway from her family. Immediately I went back to the pension reprimanding myself how I agreed on the teenager girl desire and accepted her invitation.


At the living room while we were sitting, I told Muna that the following day I intended to perform the Friday prayer at our Master Al-Hussein’s Mosque at Khan Al-Khaleeli and read the opening chapter of the Holy Koran in execution of my family’s request.


Muna begged me to halt on my way back at Madbooli Book-shop in Seleiman Basha Square and buy that reference book: (A Critical Study of Hamlet’s character).

I agreed with pleasure as I would at the same time visit the Syrian fat man, owner of the favor at Omaya’s Hotel.

* * * *

The sun folded by its light everything dark and covered all Cairo landmarks, the city of domes, amusement, science and a thousand minarets.

Cairo ........... How wonderful and charming like a wet dew or a white cloud production washed by Heaven’s water ! Cairo ........... a beautiful nest and an immortal paradise wetted by honey, memories and tears. The sun ray was falling on Al-Dawar Restaurant at Cairo tower vertically. It lit the dimmed sides behind the dark thick glass pieces. There were oblong tables on which rested white tablecloth, dishes and cups. Everything was clean and in order under the light coming from the window openings. Muna sat before me. Today I had invited her for lunch in that lofty tower to enjoy seeing Cairo from that awful height which reached one hundred and eighty four meters. Today is Sham Al-Naseem, spring feast throughout green Egypt.


Muna was brighter than before as she was wearing a grey dress and a sleeveless sweater with red and silver circles. She let her hair hang behind her back in neat coiffure while she left her black bag hung on a chair close to her.


When we had our lunch, a sailing ship, felucca, in the middle of the Nile, drew Muna’s attention.


- "I wish we were free one day," said she, "and go on an excursion to Al-Qanatir Al-Khayriya."


- "God willing, if we have the chance. I promise you."

By the kneeling down lion at the entrance of Kupri Qasr Al-Neel, I bought two bags of peanuts, then we returned to the pension.


In the evening I was busy with my subjects. I did not go out to the reception room but there were some voices that broke in silence at the pension.


I raised my head off the book and listened. What ? A visitor or a new guest ? Madame Camellia’s voice was welcoming him warmly that suited no one but an old friend. There was laughter, as well. I wondered who he was !


I went out of the room and found Muna sitting watching T.V. The man seemed be short and fat similar to a barrel of pickles. His upper and lower jaws as well as his dewlap were puffy. His eyes were blue despite his tan-colored complexion. He was aristocratic in impression that could not be misled by eye. Madame Camellia introduced him to me under the name Ridhwan Pasha, ex-under secretary of state, belonging to Al-Munoofiya Governorate notable men and of the pension old guests.


(22)


At the same time, Sana and Ghada entered the University of Mosul library after meeting without previous date in front of Al-Faysal Bureau for Printing. As soon as they sat down Ghada eagerly whispered :

- "What news about Omar ? Is there anything new ?"

- "He was admitted to Cairo University and he has attended it for a long time."

- "Great. he deserves every good: polite, striver and ambitions."

- "And you ... what’s your news ? Haven’t you received any letter or item of news from him?"

- "I received nothing. I have no address so that he can send me his letters."

Sana was telling a lie to her colleague, Ghada of what was in herself. She discovered her lie but she kept on her speech smiling.

- "I’m afraid Cairo might enchant him and your bird would flee to an other one!"

- "Everything is destiny."

- "Yes, that’s right, but, Sana, you didn’t light him even a glimpse of light. You closed all windows and doors. No hope ... No aim and no truth."

- "His circumstances are difficult, Ghada. I’m confident my family will not approve his engagement in such a circumstance."

- "Hence, my little daughter, your love is non-existent."

- "Everything is a matter of luck and fortune It is neither luck nor fortune."

It is up to you. Definitely honey can not come out without bees’ stings. I’m not convinced with your speech at all. Look for another excuse.

* * * *

Inside the simple mud house at Zeidan Al-Khalaf Al-Luheibi’s village, Awad was reading his mother a letter that had just arrived from Omar requesting him to convey his greeting and love to his mother, family members, the tribe members and the noble officer, Hasan, and tell him that he would visit then as soon as possible.


Mother was wiping off by her towel a falling tear drop despite her while hearing that pleasant item of news to both the soul and the tired heart.


In the narrow lane Alhaj Sabri and uncle Abu Taha were waving with pleasure to every Tom, dick and Harry presenting the colored greeting post cards sent to them by their faithful friend, Omar, while Jaleela did not receive her post card due to her shifting from the lane to a modern sewing factory. She opened for her at Khalid Bin Al-Waleed street after being famous as a skilled dressmaker inside and outside the lane. Every tongue mentioned that especially her art in sewing wedding dresses which Alhaj Sabri rented one on his own account for the wedding of the bride of uncle Abu Taha’s son. But as for her playful girl, she stole an amount of one thousand dinars, a gold bracelet and ran away to Duhok where she loved a young Kurdish man called Sarbast who lived in one of the mountainous villages hidden behind Gara Mountain.


The girl and her lover agreed to run away from beyond the borders at Zakho and seek refuge with one of their acquaintanceship in Germany, Sweden Denmark or may be America which has become a haunt of unsuccessful persons, fugitive and thieves who betrayed the convention and sold themselves. As for the original rest ones, they remained at their cities and villages spreading out the land scent which embraced their fathers and their grandfathers including their deep-rooted heritage along the long years and the original connection to their home land.


(23)


At the living room headed by bronze statue of the Virgin, on both apposite corners was distributed a Sofa made of ebony, carefully covered with brown damask, four chairs, a radio, a new chandelier and a big carefully framed picture of a shipmaster of fair mustache wearing a white hat.


Muna and I sat down in the middle of the room following up the T.V. programs.

- "Where are you going God willing tomorrow ?" said I to her.

- "Tomorrow I shall have a little bit rest but I shan’t go to college."

- "Good. Me too. Hence you’ll be with me."

- "Where ?"

- "Let it be a surprise and you’ll know in the morning."

- "Your surprise is lovely but it is endless."

* * * *

We did not have our breakfast at the pension despite Madame Camellia’s insistence, who prepared us Greek style omelet in addition to special appetizers. We set out to a public restaurant at Al-Tawfeeqiya Market near Bab Al-Looq. In the morning it serves Shalabi’s bread with minced meat on which was cayenne pepper put. After that we wandered on the payments that sold old, used and rare books in Ibrahim Pasha Square near Cleopatra Hotel. We got good reference books that we badly in need of. Then we entered 26th July Street and bought things from Shamla, Omar Afandi and Saydno pension w shops. Then our last rest after this interesting and useful tour was at Jroobi in Talat Harb Basha Square where types of refreshing juice and delicious ice cream in addition to coffee and deserts were served.


- "Did you get tired?" I asked Muna.

- "On the contrary. Most of our tour was by taxi. I benefited much from the books that I badly needed. The favor is yours, Omar."

- "Next week there’s another tour but not here. Prepare yourself from now."

- "Right ? Where ? Say for God sake."

- "Let it be a surprise."

- "Again ? Don’t be egoist, Omar. Please tell me."

- "You shall know in the right time."

- "I said please.."

- "A tourist trip with the College of Arts students to Alexandria."

- "Fantastic. Beautiful. How eager I am to visit it ! When will the trip date be ?"

- "I don’t know. May be at least after one week."

- "I wonderful trip. I shall prepare myself from now so as not to be surprised by you as you were accustomed to every time and mix me up making me forget some of my important needs. Did you know anything about the trip program?"

- "I think it is for two or three days. On the first day we shall visit the palace of king Farooq at the park, Alexandria Castle and then a free tour at Al-Raml station and the sea shore. On the second one a visit to the traditional Alexandria Library, winter King Farooq’s palace at Ras

Al-Teen, then a free tour in the evening and returning on the next day. This is all I know. May be there is another program which I don’t about know."
- "Short and interesting trip."

Early in the evening, I took permission from those sitting in the living room and entered my room to sleep pretending it’s due to tiredness and fatigue. But I was not honest at the bottom of myself. I entered it to write the last letter to Sana.


(24)


Four years passed without feeling them on account of continuous effort and follow up. I once visited my family. So did Muna. Time was very short for both of us as heavy effort accumulated on us after obtaining the M. A. Degrees with Good Grade.


Sometimes four of five days pass without seeing Muna except once. The Ph.D. degree was extremely difficult until that day came and both dissertations were discussed together at college. It was a remarkable day attended by a lot people. It was televised and displayed by the Egyptian T.V. within a culture program.


When we returned together to the pension, we were met by infrequent cheers by Madame Camellia who was not competent at such special oriental art of cheers.


In the evening a great festival was held inside the university campus attended by Mr. Minister of Education, Prof. University President and a lot of professors as well as the invited. Among them there was that teenager girl, Susan, who tried to approach me but I ignored her paying her no attention. I stayed near Muna then degrees and gifts were distributed in addition to hanging the graduation badge.


After a week we completed everything including termination of our relationship with the university handing over what we owed of trusts. The leave-taking was hot with Madame Camellia who did not give up crying while seeing the two off begging us not to suspend our news from her. I did not forget bidding the fat Syrian man good-bye nor did with uncle Hasanein, the pension janitor for his remarkable rendered services during the last four years, nor with the neat laundry female owner, Madame Treza and nor with Alhaj Hanafi Mustafa Hanafi, a grocery shop owner.


* * * *

Zeidan Al-Khalaf Al-Luheibi’s village rushed to welcome the coming of Dr. Omar Hamadi Al-Luheibi. As soon as he reached it, he immediately went to the tomb of his father and his youth companion, Ghazi Al-Edan reading them the first chapter of the Holy Koran crying out:


- "Good omen, father. I made your wish true and obtained the big certificate which you always dreamed of. Lie down, father, and rest. Encompass you with his wide Grace lodging you his vast paradise. Your toil has never gone in vain and that your son immortalized your memory for ever. Sleep self-delighted and pleased-souled. You’ve been a simple peasant, a good model, a good example, rich in self and in essence. We are from God and to Him we return.


Women as well as men from Al-Luheibi tribe followed in succession to the house of late Hamdi Ali Khalaf Al-Luheibi congratulating and blessing Omar’s mo pension ther for the success and graduation of her son who went to the energetic officer, Hasan, son of Zeidan Al-Luheibi, thanking him for his noble deed and presenting him a special gift he brought from a grand shop at Khan Al-Khaleeli. Awad Al-Luheibi was burnt to delight inside the Arabian dance (Dabka) which gathered in front of their house amidst the drum beats and the bagpipe tunes while some others were spreading out carpets slaughtering sacrifices and receiving the guests who came from the near by villages.


(25)


Everything around me turned into a deep gay bright day extending endlessly. Everything around me has become real I felt that the hour of the effort that I spent has approached and that my long night which I fled from at some instant has now come coated with pride and joy. The ache rises from me the same as the cactus does. The date has drawn nearer and here is your face, Sana, always tends to sunset. On your face rests the appetite of failure and loss and you are closer to me than myself. From here I see you, my sweetheart. despite the bleeding which remained flowing off me over years till it dried out. My eyes laugh like iris field in spring. This is the era of love. Is it difficult to for me to choose ? Can love yield longing and warmth or thorns, cactus and colocynth ?


Across the vast desert and the sand straying comes the night prince to read the coming time face. How fast roses die, the green dream becomes fading, the entire globe becomes dark ! Both man and child become old, dreams, fears and aches scatter once. Sana look at the mirror. How wide your eyes are ! How wide our world in which we live is ! Surely, your father will accept my engagement to you regardless of my hard circumstances, and my limited capabilities. Like a blind man I was straying while you were far away from my face across all sad distances. I was a stranger in the city of strangers. I have become beloved among the family and companions.


At last I have come to you my dear university, crowned by highness and pride.

What days those passed ! How sweet those memories were ! How were we and how have we become ?

The university president received me accompanied by Dr. Muna Suleiman Al-Halabi congratulating us for accepting us as professors at the College of Arts, wishing us success in performing our scientific task and urging us to present more science, knowledge, research but no standstill. Knowledge is endless and science does not vanish.


On the stairs of the university presidency, I met Sana face to face. Both of us gazed at each other with deep panic and deeper sense that she looked for years. Here she is before me with all her absentmindedness, aches, hesitation and her spirit agony. I did not know that something was binding me to the ground on which I am standing now.


- "Omar." she called me sobbing.

- "Hello, Sana."

- "When did you return ? When did you arrive ... why didn’t you tell me ? why ?"

- "I arrived home approximately two months ago and I was very busy between the ministry and the university till the appointment order was issued. I wrote you lots and lots but no reply till the hope inside me passed away putting out the glimpse of hope."

- "I received your letters."

- "Hence why didn’t you reply them even once ? Only one reply !"

- "I don’t know. I was mentally mixed up and nervously upset. All of a sudden I found myself in choked loneliness and destructive spare time."

- "You, Sana, still remain in that worry and bewilderness. No land to board on and no goal to endeavor. So you are. And how about Ghada ? What news about her ?"

- "She got married to our college, Adil. At present she is a teacher at Al-Zuhoor Preparatory School for Girls and she has got daughter."

- "And you ?"

- "Me ? I work here at the university presidency. Now I’m in the Scientific-Affair Department."

- "And you ?"

- "I’ve been appointed at the College of Arts with Dr. Jandari, our senior professor. But pardon me, Sand. I forgot to introduce you to my wife. Dr. Muna Al-Halabi. She is also with me but at the English Department."

- "How d ..... o yo ..... u d ...... o ?"

* * * *

When Dr. Omar Al-Luheibi left the university presidency, putting his wife’s arm around, Sana was eyeing them from behind the room window in which she worked the upstairs till their shadow faded away behind lofty cypress and eucalyptus trees. Sana was wiping off one eye that fell down despite her not knowing whether it was a sadness drop or a repentance one !

جهد قيم جدا جدا توجت به الفرسان ووهبت تقدمتك لهم.
جزاك الله خيرا وعقبال من يترجم لنا نصوصنا