The Different Color of 2011

Young men and women protested, got beaten, dragged on the asphalt and some lost their lives for a noble cause. Their will and determination were never broken though. Hundreds of brave names more than our little minds can remember or bear to remember.

They brushed 2011 with a different color. A very different and bright color, regardless how the background of the picture is/was dim, unfair and ugly. We owe them everything and they owe nobody nothing, and no amount of talk or eloquence can do them justice.

Ahmed Harara,

Words stand ashamed if I try to express our gratitude, appreciation and admiration. A hero at the moment when the faith in heroes was almost lost.

Dream (December,16 2011)

The place looked like my parents’ old house but more spacious. Members of family and guests sat and chatted together when I noticed that my close friend’s estranged wife was there. I wondered how she dared to come and who invited her. A new guest walked up the stairs and she rushed to meet him to find out later that he was not the person she expected. The new guest was a young man in his early thirties, white skinned, short haired and tall. Moments later another guest arrived and it was whom the estranged wife expected. He was in his late thirties with long black hair, and wearing a t-shirt revealing his tattooed arms. I said to myself he was not the type I expected him to be. The tattooed man was followed by an elegant blonde young woman. He, she and the estranged wife talked together and the latter seemed quite happy talking to the guy. Then I noticed she also had a tattoo and I thought maybe she tried to match up to him.

Someday Crossed My Path

A tall thin guy with a long Ron Wood-like hairstyle looked me in the eyes and asked "This is class 1, isn’t it". I said "Yes". "And you are in it, right?" I said "Yes". He got his back bag off and placed it on the desk and sat down a bit far from me. My friend sitting on my left side whispered "***k". I asked "Why? What is wrong?". "Why have you answered him that politely? He is mocking you. He knows it is class 1 and just wanted to play around". I said "I did not see it like that". But then in a second thought I did not exclude that the tall guy, known later as H, decided I looked mockable enough to act the way my friend explained. We were in the very first days of our freshman year in the university.

Along the university years nothing linked H and I together. We were in two different groups of friends. It was later and during the first stage of the military service that we found each other within the same circle of conscripts who felt the need to get together in the new military environment. In a strange world, thin similarities overshadowed differences.

Cynicism and sarcasm were quite felt in H’s character. The bony white face, that resembled a mummy, was not strange to the cold attitudes he sometimes took in different situations. His character’s other features included solid disbelief in god, hate for his country, a definite desire to migrate to the USA, and taking calculated sharp reactions. I could see him, in a cinematic scene, walking the street, getting out a knife from his pocket, stabbing an enemy while cursing in a low voice, calmly hiding the knife back, spitting on the ground and then walking away.

In that incident when we were first stopped by the guard, H seized an opportunity in a nanosecond to just walk away before the guard realized his disappearance. He risked being arrested for running away without much thought. Ironically the guard later feared of being questioned for H’s disappearance and preferred not to mention it during the investigation.

Last thing I heard about him was that he inherited a good size of fortune after his father’s death, and got married to a nightclub singer, which came a little bit unexpected given his conservative family background. But did he leave for the States as he adamantly wanted? I did not know and I did not seek seriously to know, but he remained one of the persons who crossed my path someday and reserved a place in the memory.

When It Comes....

* My sister looks and sounds more and more like our late mother. I have been told lately that I look now more like my father. A sign of growing old as Marquez put it.

* 2o11 was splendid. Unrest reigned in the three overlapping personal, professional and national circles.

* Sometimes I feel nostalgic to my old blog. The supposed persona behind it was different, popularity was higher and language was native. I gunned it down 3 years ago but kept the body in the morgue. Every few months I feel like reading the old posts which seem to me now as if they were written by someone else. Surprisingly new comments were still posted until last week.

* Heavy winter clothes fill my cupboard. I like the elegance of winter clothes whose different pieces allow matching colors and styles, unlike my summer clothes which are usually reduced to a t-shirt and jeans.

* I wrote a comment in some blog lately and found out it was deleted by the blogger. This happened before in another blog. It is strange that some bloggers, who seem or pretend to be broad-minded and cool, get hurt by a polite harmless different point of view or offended by an unfunny comment (mistaken by its writer for being funny though!).

* Courteous, shy, soft-spoken, quiet and level-headed. He does not fake any of these qualities. He is also blessed with easy-to-the-eye face features that pack the deal. What do very few close people know though is that he is also alcoholic and regular cheater. Those who happen to find out the other side of his character, get obviously shocked. Even I, despite our long history of friendship, still get intrigued by the sharp contrast between the mister and the doctor in his character. Interesting that he is mainly and severely judged by the others for the misconception people have about him more than anything else.