Soldiers and Sunsets

In the Name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful. 

I spent most of the rest of the day processing the protest. Indeed, as I reflected upon it I remembered it being a rather intense scene. I tried to take my mind off of it by talking to a kid. Thankfully, Majd was around at the time. We were having a regular conversation when I interrupted him and asked if we could go to roof. Aware the sun’s light was weakening, I wanted to watch it set with all its glory. When we got upstairs, however, the sight was rather disheartening. The landscape of his village was breathtaking, for sure. It was the separation wall in the distance that destroyed the view. I looked at the land that could potentially belong to him. Then I decided to ask him a series of questions to better understand his perspectives on life and the conflict, even though they’re not exactly separate entities. In English that was barely broken, he maintained a very symbolic conversation. I started with the olive trees, as they were the first thing I could see. “Do those over there belong to your family?” I asked. “No, those are for my uncle,” he said. As I nodded my head, he turned to face me and said “He didn’t plant them though. My grandma did.” Without him having to convey his slight insinuation in candid words, I understood that he was subliminally telling me that they are literally rooted in his family’s heritage. (As if I didn’t already know that). He took me around to the other side from where we were standing and pointed to a small plant with much potential. “That one is mine,” he said with pride. 

Lost in the sight of the land, I was taken back by the sound of children singing nearby. Elated to hear their laughter, I tried not to think about how many tears had fallen from the eyes that were presently abundant with joy. Despite conscious efforts, I kept thinking about why this wouldn’t be the norm. It led me to my next question. “How often do you see the soldiers?” I asked Majd. “The army comes here at night and arrests the boys. They arrested my dad fifteen times. They arrested my uncle when he goes to university,” he said. With his response lending itself to another question, I couldn’t help but ask- “Are you ever scared?” Looking into the distance he said “I don’t scared for anything. They have guns, but without guns they scared.” Out of a selfish want for him to elaborate, I repeated myself and said “Never?” Honored that he was opening up, he said “One time I was scared because the gas bomb made a circle around me, and then my face like when you eat pepper.” Not wanting to evoke bad memories, I was thankful when a bird soaring above captivated the attention of both of us. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the light sky. “The Palestinians like the bird in jail with Israelis,” he said. Embarrassed that I didn’t completely understand, I said “What do you mean?” He pointed to the enclosure holding back his birds. “What’s the meaning of this?” he said, as he pointed to the skinny bars. “Oh, cage,” I answered. “The birds in cage are like the man from Palestine in jail.” 

Initiating a positive tone himself, he went on to say “I want to make Palestinian freedom.” Smiling with sincerity, not to mock his seriousness, I asked him how he planned to do so. “Being a businessman, the first one in Bil’in” he said. Adding also that after he was successful, he would take care of his property. Exchanging looks of approval, we both started to watch the last of the sun’s light in silence. It was then that he said “After night, the sun of freedom shines.” Taken back by his poetic statement, I stayed quiet and processed his words. When I evaluated their depth, I repeated them as they were said, “After night, the sun of freedom shines.” We sat there, him and I, as we watched the day transition into dark. And even though the sun was setting behind the wall, I was near the one with hope. 

“And He will provide him from sources he never could imagine. And whosoever puts his trust in God, then He will suffice him. Verily, God will accomplish His purpose. Indeed God has set a measure for all things.” -The Qur’an 65:3

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity. 

Bursting the Bubble

In the Name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful. 

As sure as the sun rose the next morning, Friday followed Thursday. Knowing it was demonstration day, I didn’t get out of bed immediately upon waking up. I had an awful stomach ache and an increased heart beat. Last time I remember feeling that way was before my International Baccalaureate exams. When I did leave the room, the tension was eased, as I found my lovely hostess preparing an incredible breakfast. We ate outside, as we normally did, and enjoyed good food and great companionship. After we finished, I found Abdul Khaliq engaging in an activity of which I had little knowledge.

Not being completely immune to the blatant or subliminal associations of “terrorist actions” portrayed by the west, I went with curiosity to see what he was doing. I realized that he was simply throwing stones from a sling. He offered to teach me, and I accepted the lesson. The whole time he was transferring the secrets, I couldn’t help but refer to him as “ya ustez.” It was after I got the art of accuracy down, that he introduced me to the slingshot. Aware that both of these symbols have notoriously been linked to Palestinian struggles such as the two intifadas, I looked at them for what they were. Activities. It reminded me of when I learned how to skip stones upon water. Just a different activity. It was fun, me and him competing to see who could launch one furthest. When the stones went out of sight we would listen for the sound of them making contact with the earth. Knowing that the demonstration was quickly approaching, we obviously had to discuss the transformation of the deed from an completely innocent game to a potentially dangerous weapon. When he said “Why we should not use this on soldiers for what they do us,” it was hard to look him in the eye. Only imaging what he had seen, I told him to leave it to God, as He is the Best Witness and with Him remain the record of all things. I watched the little man look away, and then my heart smiled when his eyes met mine with a pensive look and he nodded. We continued our competition. Of course, it was little Mayar who brought my attention to life’s special simplicities as she interrupted our, what had by then almost turned into a tournament, and pointed out a beautiful butterfly in our presence. It’s a good thing she came along too, because we needed to break and prepare for the prayer.  

Most of the family went to the Mosque together and we listened to a splendid sermon! I couldn’t understand absolutely everything, but that did not decrease the dignified deliverance in the least. After the Imam, religious leader, completed his oration, I stood shoulder to shoulder and toe to toe with women I had never seen. We recited the same words and simultaneously said “ameen.” After the prayer we shook hands, and kissed on the cheek while the saying “may God accept your prayers” and the response “mine and yours” were exchanged. Then, before I walked out, I turned around and looked at them while they worshipping. Really looked at them. The mothers who raise families through an occupation that exceeds six decades. I was wondering what they were talking to God about. If they were praying for the their children who were about to attend the demonstration. It was once pointed out that Palestinian women age faster than most, and although their spiritual souls are at peace with their Lord, I could understand why the wrinkles on their face bear the witnessing lines of the oppressed. I wished peace upon them, and went on my way. 

After leaving the Mosque, I met up with a friend, and we went to the edge of the village (where the wall was constructed) for the demonstration. There were many internationals there. Some not so internationals also. I saw a girl smiling at me, so I said hello to her. I asked her where she was from, and she said “Israel.” I said “Excuse me?” not in mockery of her answer, but as to abolish my own disbelief. This girl, and the other individuals with her, were risking their lives to protest the decision of their government and the implementation of their army in order to ensure land for their people. It was a lot to take in, so I smiled and said that she was welcome among “us” anytime. I meant it too. In the meanwhile, the host I was staying with gave my friend and I a quick briefing. When they fire teargas: look up, wait for it to fall, quickly run the opposite direction of the wind, etc. As we were speaking, the crowd increased in number. We started walking and chanting words such as “no more occupation.” The group was lead by men carrying something that looked like a miniature coffin. On the paper covering it were the words “Oslo is Dead.” The first mark of retaliation, or “defense” as the Israeli army would probably prefer to call it, was spraying sewage water over the 8 meter tall wall that was protecting them. It was the most foul oder to ever offend my nose and stain my clothes. It was then that I decided to cover my face with my hattah (white and black scarf identified with the Palestinian struggle). I wore it that way not because I wanted to look like a rebel, but because I wanted to breathe. 

It wasn’t long after that the teargas was ignited. As the canisters were fired, a couple adults yelled “look up please, look up please.” I did, thankfully, so I avoided the one in my direction. The guy next to me wasn’t as fortunate, poor thing. I watched him get hit in the head and saw as he stammer around. Thankfully, my host grabbed his hand and guided him to a safer place with haste. My friend and I were told to stay in the back, and we did. For some time. Every now and then, however, we found ourselves near the front lines. She and I were by the guys who were throwing stones. Seeing them made me think about my morning with Abdul Khaliq, made me hope he would never be amongst them. When I realized how close I was, I slightly separated myself from the group and looked at two soldiers who were quite a ways away. I held up my third finger, and my index one, as a sign of peace. All of a sudden, I heard a photographer say “oh, don’t move” and then I was surrounded by multiple cameras. They loved the sign, although it can be taken to mean something else. With different interpretations, I assume the soldiers may have thought it was the “V” for “victory.” At least that’s the only logical explanation I can offer as to why they shot a rubber bullet in my direction. It didn’t hit me, thankfully. By the mercy of God, I was bending over at the time to remove a thorn that was bothering me. Although, the bullet did hit an olive tree. Yeah, I thought it was ironic too since that is a universally recognized symbol for what I was displaying upon my fingers. Anyway, that was when my bubble of ‘being protected under the might of a US passport’ burst. I wondered if it would have mattered if they would have known I was American. I wondered why it should have mattered. I wondered why the world would take the death of an American from Florida more seriously than the death of a Palestinian from West Bank. I wondered too if the bullet that almost hit me was made in “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”

At the end of the protest, when the Red Crescent ambulance that was waiting on guard drove away empty, I know I wasn’t the only one thanking God for allowing us to all survive. Attending the demonstration was important to me. I did not see it so much as an initiation to a rebellious action, but rather a confirmation to seeking justice. It was much more than something to cross off on bucket list. Later that day, when I was with my host family, we talked about the experience. I heard Abdul Khaliq tell his mom that they shouldn’t throw stones at Israeli soldiers. That they should put their trust in God, and rest assured that everyone will be given what they deserve. I saw her face soften as she nodded, listening to her son’s words of wisdom. It was also later that the same little man handed me both a sling and a slingshot and said I should keep them. 

 “Fear of you believers is more intense in their hearts than fear of God… they would never fight you, except from within fortified strongholds or behind high walls.” -The Qur’an 59:13-14

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

“Ya Ustez”

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.

I went to Bil’in for the weekend. It is a charming village, with an intense history of resistance. Every Friday, after the congregational prayer, a group of Palestinian, Israeli, and international activists gather for a demonstration. Standing a small distance from the apartheid wall which separates and steals the land of the community, the participants engage in a protest for its removal as well as the ceasing of illegal settlement be built on the other side of their property. I knew Friday was going to be huge, and I wanted time to enjoy conversing with people before chanting with them- so I arrived Thursday evening. I was hosted by a family who the society regards as legendary for their nonviolent efforts against the occupation. When the taxi driver asked me where I wanted to go, the name of the home was mentioned, and the woman in front of me immediately gave him directions… as if he should have known. 

When I got to my destination, the two eldest boys (who really were transitioning into young men), welcomed me graciously and took me to their uncle’s house as that’s where their father was. After praying, I received the exciting news that there was going to be a barbecue soon. In the meantime, I was given the most delicious wraps, and was begged to have my cupped refilled. As we left to go to the home at which I was staying, I thanked the lady for her hospitality and told her the food was amazing. She preceded to tell me I was welcome at anytime, as she handed me a napkin in which she put the food I didn’t finish. Finally, I got to the house of Iyad Burnat with a full stomach and a heavy heart. There are always young ones around, which make it an indefinably pleasurable atmosphere! Then again, when your parents give you a number of siblings that reaches double digits, it’s hard not to have a few yourself. There are four Burnat children, who I adore beyond belief. Three incredible boys, Majd, Abdul Khaliq, & Mohammaed, and one precious girl: Mayar. Naturally, they are always accompanied by an uncountable amount of cousins (yeah, the little boy from the film is one of them) and other children from the community. The more time I spent around that young generation, the more I realized something special about them. When an adult addressed one of the kids, they would refer to them as “ya ustez,” meaning “oh teacher.” Aside from humility, I took it to be a title of complete accuracy. 

As I was surrounded by people a decade younger than me, I quickly came to the conclusion that children often have the clearest and most simplistic views though they may witness the most incomprehensible and complex things. We were watching T.V., about six little guys and me. At least, they were watching it. I was lost in though. It was something so normal for kids their age, watching T.V., however, I could not help but wonder what else their eyes had seen. Freedom fighters, some still to young to have finished fifth grade, were in many ways wise beyond their years. Through their presence, they were teaching me. After the show, I went to hang out with one of the girls I met. She was getting the meat ready for the barbecue. The first fourteen-year-old I have ever watched prepare, actually prepare chicken. I felt embarrassed offering to cut the vegetables. She smiled kindly. Through her maturity, she was teaching me. When I went outside, I saw Majd scanning the ground, and searching under trees. The next time I looked at him I saw the beginning of a flame. I went to help him, even though he was more than capable without my company. He found a piece of cardboard that was separated from its box, and he started to kindle the fire. Of course, he would never admit to being tired, but he still let me help. Through his patience, he was teaching me. After we finish eating I was lost in thought still. Knowing what was on my mind, their dad asked me if I was worried about tomorrow. We started to talk about the potential dangers and the best ways to try avoiding them. We talked until we were sweetly interrupted. In the middle of a conversation that was indirectly related to death, Princess Mayar expressed her desire to play a hand game. It brought my attention back to the basics of life. Through her innocence, she was teaching me. As we enjoyed being outside there was another reminder of a clash between childhood and consternation. Abdul Khaliq handed me an empty canister of teargas he picked up from the ground. He didn’t have to point out that it was from America for me to be disgusted. He held it as though it was nothing. As though it was not designed to be used against him, his family, his nation. I held it in my hand until I was given something ‘heavier’- a flower from their garden. Essentially, a piece of their land. Something they were committed to hold on to, even if it came with the unwelcomed collection of teargas canisters. Through his symbols, he was teaching me. 

 With all the lessons, there was much to ponder over. Though, I was not so deep into thought that I forgot to stop and appreciate the beauty of the gathering. The family was illuminating! So many generations, so much happiness. I suppose they know all too well each Thursday may be their last time together. Trying not too think about Friday too much, I enjoyed my night. It truly was a lovely evening, and I was so thankful to spend my time with teachers of all sorts.

“Verily, what will continue to reach a believer, after his death, from amongst his actions and good deeds are: the knowledge which he taught and spread, the righteous child whom he left behind, and the Holy script which he delivered as heritage (transcribed, and made available).” -Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity. 

Five Broken Cameras, One Broken Heart

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.  

I usually only write movie critiques as assignments for foreign language courses, but this one is for Bil’in. Tonight, I attended a screening of the film “Five Broken Cameras.” An ingenious title that captivates the journey of a Palestinian man, Emad Burnat, who records the story of his village’s resistance to the Israeli occupation. The main effort of the people is to move back the barrier (that eventually turns into an apartheid wall) which is absorbing their land, and providing space for settlements. Settlements which have been deemed as a violation of international law, time and time again, by leader after leader. When the Friday prayer is finished, each week, the people of Bil’in gather with international activists and journalists and participate in nonviolent demonstrations. Throughout the course of the Emad’s filming, he goes through multiple cameras as each one has a different story behind its destruction. He links the events of his community to a timeline that corresponds with his youngest son’s life. Automatically feeling an affinity to his family, the audience is exposed to a struggle that has lasted for over half a decade. It would be rude of me to spoil the ending, so I won’t. Additionally, the conflict is ongoing… and the final situation is still uncertain. 

It was a marvelous movie, nonetheless. I cried, cried hard. I have been to Bil’in before. Have seen the wall. Have thrown stones at it, an action I wouldn’t do to the soldiers who are responsible for its construction. I have slept there, prayed there, broken fast there, formed friendships with the people there. It’s a very special place to me. I knew what they had been through. Had even seen video clips. The movie captured everything though, especially by involving children who are often forgotten. It is in the Arabic language, and the English subtitles are almost as powerful as the original words being translated. As anyone who watches it notices, some of the phrases coming from the Palestinians are applicable to every place that suffers injustice. In the single narrator’s voice you can hear the echos of a silenced majority. One of the only things more powerful than listening to him behind five cameras, was hearing him in real life- as I realized by surprise after the film was finished. At first, I didn’t see him and his friends in the room. Even after their presence was announced, I still couldn’t see them through my tears. Emotional, obviously, but the feelings came from an accumulation of events. A knowledge of a people who have for 64 years been oppressed. 

After, they came up to me and asked why I was crying. My response was weak, as I was speechless. How do you thank heroes? Really. How do you tell them you admire their advocacy to risk their lives, when you come from the country that supports the army that terrorizes them? Being a “Palestinian American” has almost become a kind of antonym. On one hand, you sympathize for all the lost lives… but on the other hand, you pick up a cappuccino from Starbucks and indirectly drink a cup of their blood. It’s hard stuff. Of course, the Palestinians separate people from policy, but sometimes there is an undeniable sense of guilt when coming from “The States.” That was another reason I was heartbroken. In any case, everyone was comforting. They restored my hope, and reminded me of my vision: a circle that is divided into four sections, by three lines. [However many “separate states living with their security” that may consist of]. 

Bil’in is an important place to be for people who want peace. I will be there tomorrow, God willing. 

“Help the oppressed.” -Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

From a Window

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.

It was once said that the small country of Palestine could constitute a continent in its entirety. It has costal plains, desert, snow, mountains, and access to multiple seas. The terrain is breathtaking, and the sights are scenic. Whether the light is rising upon or the night is overcoming this blessed land, the natural beauty of it never ceases to be present. Traveling much, I have been fortunate enough to observe this place. I have witnessed it both by sun set and day break. There are rolling hills, that transform into majestic mountains. A splendid sea that allows sunshine to dance along the Mediterranean. Grass is limited, but needed in the least, as the stars can be gazed upon from elevated peaks. There are valleys that have depths which seem never ending. Everywhere is the decorated with olive trees that are rooted with generations of tending.

The only thing more captivating than looking at the land, is interacting with its lovely inhabitants. The Palestinians, people of an incomprehensible generosity, grace this piece of earth with the most hospitality. Spending countless hours outside, they look at their cultivations with something greater than pride. Planting rows of seeds in the light of sun, and praying for them to prosper at night, it is the art of agriculture to which they dedicate their laborious lives. Knowing the roads better than the Romans did themselves, this occupied people is like no one else. Cherishing a connection to a land so holy, they do not allow their country to be taken easily. Developing their orchards decade after decade, there is a natural resistance when they receive orders to vacate. Building their homes with stone from their city’s ancient quarry, they do not construct with the intention of leaving. Belonging to the only place where all the Prophets (peace be on them) walked, Palestinians do more than just talk the talk. Loving their land with all of its God given gifts, it is easy to see why separation causes so many rifts.

I notice the attachment, without even speaking to the people directly. I see it when I look into the distance while someone else is driving. I pass strangers and without a word of exchange, hear their hope and understand their pain. Communicating with them only brings about confirmation, for what their faces show through looks of dignified determination. As they marvel at the mountains and stare at the sea, their view encompasses more than what is perceived by you and me. When they spend time outside, they handle their work with a passion. Taking extensive efforts with the intention of securing a future for their children. When they think of their land, it reminds them of more than the present. They subconsciously think about the history that cannot be disconnected. Whether it be afternoon or evening, I never close my eyes to the unspoken show. For I know, a different world can be taken in, while looking from a window.

“And He placed at your service whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on earth—all is from Him. In that are signs for a people who think.” -The Qur’an 45:13

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

When on Rooftops

In the name of God, The Most Beneficent, The Most Merciful.

So there I was, sitting on a rooftop at 2:20am. The reason I was awake at that time may or may not have been because of my inability to adjust to the time change in Palestine. At any rate, I was looking at the sky. Not looking at it so much for inspiration, I had plenty on my mind. Rather, looking at it more for comfort. Appreciating it’s expansive presence, it’s never ending grandeur. After I lost count of the stars, I let my mind wonder… and wonder it did. I found myself thinking about things both serious and silly.

I thought about orange juice. I thought about Obama’s Healthcare Law. I thought about how if Dubai wasn’t concerned with having the world’s tallest building, they could very well have the world’s highest humanitarian aid rate. I thought about the English butterfly poem I annotated and wrote a paper on. I thought about the Olympics. I thought about the little kid I saw on the corner who has to beg for money, pretending to be an orphan, so he can help support his family. I thought about puppies. I thought about if a peace sign divides a circle into three or four sections.

As I said, I thought about things that were both serious and silly. I used to do it a lot during the summer before high school, seclude myself and pay attention to the things that amuse my mind. It could be a form of meditation, I suppose. I use thinking as an outlet to better understand myself, but then again, doesn’t everyone? Reflections are significant. Especially in The Holy Land. There is often too much to think about. Over here, it’s easy to be overwhelmed. I was at peace on the rooftop, though. There were no tanks, no soldiers, no guns. At least not where I was. Being physically separated from the conflict gave my mind the freedom to think of things other than war. A blessing that those who don’t live in an occupation may forget to cherish.

The only thing that graciously interrupted my thoughts was a call I heard. A proclamation superior to whatever I was thinking about. The athan, the Islamic call to prayer, was being announced in a nearby Mosque. Beginning and ending with the words “God is Greater,” the call instantly gave me more to think about. It is a melodious repetition of words that make people leave their sleep, their work, their studies, their play to come and worship. It is a powerful proclamation. One that is Divine. I usually hear it as an application on my phone, but it was different listening to it echoing throughout the mountains. It transcended my thoughts, and touched my heart. It eased both my mind and my soul. It made everything more beautiful, even the sky.

I was thankful that I could take a few minutes to be alone and remember One who was Greater. A continuation of the precious process of thought. It was a lovely way for the dark to transition into dawn. It’s great to be in the company of others, and whether you communicate with your Creator or not, sometimes it’s nice just to spend time with your mind. I think so, anyway. The sky, the serious things, the not so serious things, the athan- everything about the literal and figurative atmosphere was absolutely amazing! It wasn’t anything huge I did by sitting up there in the early morning, but cool things can happen when on rooftops.

“In the creation of the heavens and earth; in the alteration of night and day… there are signs in all theses for those who use their minds.” -The Qur’an 2:164

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

Recharged

In the name of God, The Most Beneficent, The Most Merciful.

I didn’t intend for there to be such an extensive passing of time between this post and the one that preceded it. If you’re one of the two people who often check this blog, I apologize, but I have been away from a charger for a great while. Also, I have had a lot to think about.

Thankfully, I have encountered much here in The Holy Land- from an interfaith delegation, to the month of Ramadan, to the beginning of my first college semester. I will try to relate the experiences as best I can, but to do so I must first recall them. There is a lot to process in Palestine. Some of the best people being oppressed by one of the worst occupations. It’s emotionally exhausting to be a witness. Even more tiring to try to think about a method of advocation, or a legitimate solution. Though who would I be if I didn’t at least try?

The politicians act as though they don’t care, so it must be the people who make the effort. I don’t know much about law, but I know about love. I would be disobeying any morality I claim to have if I stayed silent. The things I’ve seen, the stories I’ve heard, have all come to me with a trust. A promise that they will be shared. And so, I will write. I will tell you about my experiences so that you too can partake in them vicariously. I will mention life as it is- both the good, and the bad, the tremendous, and the trivial. In all honesty, The Hold Land is simply something you have to feel with your own heart. No matter how many adjectives I use in an elaboration, I cannot explain the experiences with justice. Though I repeat, who would I be if I didn’t at least try? I will attempt to transform my thoughts and feelings into words that are fathomable. I have a fresh battery, and have taken time to process a new perspective. Now, I am ready to relate… as in more than one way, I have been recharged.

“If you see something wrong, try to change it with your hand. If you cannot, speak out against it. And if you cannot, then at the very least feel that in your heart…” -Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

Little Things Matter

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.

If one watched the news, and then was asked to associate adjectives with how they perceive the Middle East to be, words such as “barbaric,” “uncivilized,” and “savage” would undeniably be mentioned. If one was to travel there, however, they would find a reality that largely contradicts the media’s depiction. Arriving yesterday in a land far away, I felt as though I belonged to a greater community before I saw the “Welcome Home” sign. My belief that Arabs are some of the most gentle and generous people to have graced this earth, might be biased, but then again, I’ve heard many speak in accordance to the same statement. Priding themselves in the art of provision, Arabs are quick to comfort and dedicated to delight. Belonging to a culture richer than words can describe, their ability to charm those around them is basically innate.

Initially overwhelmed by the hospitality, it was the phrases people kept saying, almost subconsciously, that I found to be most profound. For them, words such as “Alhumdulilah a salam” and “Ahlen wa sahlen” seemed to come second nature in conversation, but for someone who does not hear them often, they are kind and calming. Roughly translating to “Thank God you arrived safely” and “You’re welcome here, anytime,” our driver kept repeating such words as he took our bags and drove us to our hotel. When we asked if he had waited long on us, he shook his head and said “No, no, only an hour.” Laughing, with admiration, at his loyalty, we thanked him as he kept saying “Ahlen wa sahlen.”

As we waited in the hotel lobby, we were greeted with the same flattering phrases as a waiter brought us a variety of delicious drinks. The juices nicely complimented the free fruit platter we later found in our room. Once having settled down, the bags they insisted we don’t lift were brought to our room, and we got ready to leave for dinner. Naturally, the doorman standing by the exit said “Assalam U Alaykum,” wishing peace upon us, as he smiled and waved goodbye. After ordering food at a nearby restaurant, I attempted to take our meals to the table when I saw them sitting on the counter. When I reached for the plates though, the server smiled said he would find someone to bring it to us. Treated as though we were royalty, I have found that in the Middle East it is not uncommon to even have your water poured out of the bottle for you.

Once we finished our meal we walked to a store that sold ethnic dresses. Spending a significant amount of time trying them on, the man helping us gave discount after discount until an agreement was reached. Explaining that we were staying in a hotel close to the shop, he offered to give us a ride back and to bring the dresses to our room when he finished tailoring them. Aware that my family and I are American, he insisted on playing English music in his car instead of Arabic.

Eventually, we went to go visit our cousins in Palestine. After driving for a while, the man in the taxi asked a gentlemen on the road for directions. Greeting the stranger with words such as “Assalam U Alaykum Wa Rahmatullah,” (“may the peace and mercy of God be upon you”), he asked the man if he knew where their home was. Responding with a nod and a huge smile, he put his car in reverse and said he would lead us to the residence. Very appreciative, our taxi driver waved to him and said “barakAllah feek” (“God bless you”). In the driveway we were greeted by family who wouldn’t let us carry our own bags. When we came in, we were given the best accommodations, and the best orange juice. I noticed many acts of kindness in their home, but one more than others. As my Dad took off his shoes by the front door, my Uncle immediately took off his and gave them to him, being that they were more comfortable. After witnessing this deed of humility, my attention turned to the TV. A powerful device that has been used to make humanity think so lowly of these people, in some places, hasn’t deceived me. For I know, Arabs are literally a people who would give you the shirt of their backs, and the ‘shibshib’ (sandals) off their feet.

When looking at these elements, these instances, individually, they’re not too impressive. When considering that these experiences constitute only a small portion of an expansive culture, it becomes easy to see the beauty of the environment. Manners go hand in hand with morals. The way you treat people, especially travelers, makes them remember- little things matter.

“He who believes in God and the Last Day should honour his guest…” Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

Photography of Piety

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful.

Pictures Which Restore Hope in Humanity!

Some people were created with unbelievably beautiful hearts.

“Show mercy to those who are on earth, then He Who is in heaven will show mercy to you.” -Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him)

(<3>-) hakawati4humanity.

“Beginnings Are Important”

In the name of God, the Most Beneficent, the Most Merciful. 

Yesterday, some good friends of mine suggested I start a blog. Today, I decided to recognize their recommendation. Always engaged in a journey of self discovery, I have come to realize that it is the world at whole which inspires me. Fortunate enough to have traveled much from a young age, I have found a common element that unites mankind. I believe a universal aspect familiar to all is the art of storytelling… it has granted generations to pass wisdom, and allowed them to maintain traditions. As I travel domestically and internationally, I am conscious that such opportunities are not available to everyone. Ergo, it is with great pleasure that I find part of my identity to be a “hakawati,” (Arabic for the word “storyteller”). I have always been one to verbally relay personal accounts, but now I intend to record what my eyes see, my ears hear, and my heart feels because I’m convinced that documentation of memories is essential to their recollection. As I do new things, go to new places, meet new people, I open new chapters and experience extensions to the story of my life. Everybody has something to say, and even though I don’t know where to start, I know I should. I know that “beginnings are important.” (Mr. Todd Carstenn)

“When you have reached a firm decision, put your trust in God.” “Whoever puts his trust in God; He will be enough for him.” -The Qur’an 3:159 & 65:3

(<3>-)  hakawati4humanity.