Tuesday, 20 July 2010

Going torquoise

It was in Sanat Fe, New Mexico, when I came into a shop for accessories and silver items. There was a horseshoe with torquoise in it. I liked it, yet it was far beyond what I could afford; 70 $ and for me, it would be less. The sales man looked like Egyptian guys; in my early days at louisville, it sometimes passed my mind that I would get down and find people talking Egyptian, and a song for Om kaltoum coming from a place nearby. I asked him abruptly if he was from Egypt. No, from Palestine. I contepmlated his face: honey eyes, and unshaved beard. He called for another sales assistant, asked her to put the pendent in the bag. I was wondering what the man was going to do. If you would cut down the price, I want to know how much I would pay. I thought I could not afford it, even for far less. "It is a present". I looked at Yana, my friend who happened to be with me. It came to my mind that this was a way of making people buy items; I asked him about the acceptable price he could take for it. Yet, he was serious. He did not take money, and I accepted the present.

Today, I was on my way to Muhamed Ali Center. It was all dim inside. I pressed the Intercom. I am from Egypt, and would like to visit the center. Will let someone talk to you. A young lady came out, let me in. Today is Monday. She gave me an admission ticket. You have already come today, she said. I went out. I kept walking , and missed the bus stop . My eyes were lingering on the red signal. I already did not know if I should cross the street or keep ahead in the other direction. I looked around; two gentlemen, wearing suits, asked me if I was lost. Yes I am lost. I wanna take the Fourth Street bus. We would show you the way, don't worry, one man was holding a drink. From where? Egypt. Oh Really. In Egypt, I said, people may take you to the place you are looking for, if it is nearby. Now, If feel like home. I contemplated the women who looked adventrous crossing the street when the red hand was on. I got the schedule of the Fourth Street bus from my bag. They looked at it; one of them stopped to ask a peddler selling water about the way; over there, he said. The Fourth Street bus was coming; it was Okay if I missed it, I told them. No, we would make it stop for you.

I ran timidly towards the bus; I conjured up the images of crowded buses in Egypt that would stop in most of the times by a sign of your hand; I knew it would never stop here. They were running far ahead. I started to run seriously, when the bus driver did not close the door. The two men were standing across the corner, talking to each other, I waved heartly to them... the bus moved.

Wednesday, 7 July 2010


كنت أقف في "هاف برايس بوكس" ، في يدي ورقة دونت عليها الكتب التي أريدها؛ امر بعيني على عنوانين الكتب فلا اتبين سوى إنها لمؤلفين أسمائهم بالإنجليزية، اعرف إني لست من هؤلاء الذين يبحثون على الأشياء فيجدوها في لمح البصر، ربما لا أكون كذلك، لكن هذا ما اتصور، اقترب رجل مني، تبادر إلى ذهني إنه يريد أن يمر، تحركت خطوة للإمام لكي اسمح له بالمرور، لكنه ردد ناظرا إلى ظهري:

No Stand Still

فكرت إن حشرة تقف على ظهري، كتلك الحشرة التي ركلتها بضربة من أصبعي عندما كنت في مطار "نيويورك" في انتظار الطائرة التي ستحملني إلى "ديترويت" ومن هناك إلى "لويفل"؛ انتظرت لثوان قزفة الأصابع التي ستلقي بالحشرة بعيدا ؛لكن شيئا لم يحدث، استدرت إليه، كان شيئا ما يعلق في يده، لا ادرك كم استغرق الوقت التي سقطت فيها الشعره من يد الرجل إلى راحة يدي التي فتحتها تلقائيا لاستقبال الشعره، ربما لأني كنت اخشى أن يسلمنى الرجل الشعرة في يدي فتتلامس أيدينا، فكرت إنه من الأحسن أن افتح راحة يدي لكي تسقط الشعرة عليها، استغرق الوقت ثانية أو ثانيتين، كنت كمن ظل يسير وقت طويل في طريق واكتشفت إن بجواره جدول ماء؛ هل سقوط الشعر على الكتف هنا شيئا يستحق أن تلفت الشخص الآخر بشأنه؟ لم استبعد احتمال إن الرجل كان يعاكس؛ لكن يعاكس مين؟ البنات هنا كثير منهن ممتلئ الأجسام، يرتدين جونلات و شورتات قصيرة تكشف عن أجسام فتيات في نهاية الأمر، حركت رقبتي اتأملته وهو يعبر من خلفي، رجل بشعر أصفر، بفارق واضح على الجانب، يحرك راحة يديه يمينا ويسارا، كإنه يستجيب للحن ما، هل في شعري شيئا ما يلفت النظر؟ شعري يسقط في الفرشاة وعلى الأرض كلما قمت بتمشيطة، يسقط كثيرا أيضا عندما أقص شعري عند الكوافير، لو لم تسقط الشعره على يدي بالتصوير البطيئ، كإنها قطرة ماء تسقط في إناء معدني، لما اصابني الارتباك الآن؛ استدرت للخلف فوجدت دكتور "بايرز" ، قلت له إني ابحث عن "أتونيمنت" ، ثانية هو زمن استدارة رقبتي من الخلف إلى الأمام، استقر الأسم في عيني، سحبت الكتاب ، سرت ابحث عن الكتب الأخرى، جميعها وجدته عدا واحد،

Saturday, 3 July 2010

You made me love you

I got fascinated with the song a few days ago when one of my friends sang it; it simply gripped my heart. Yesterday, I was caught in a conflict between two things: stopping now and then to click on the re-play button in the you-tube, or concentrate on reading the novel that we have to read in class. It took me an hour to break the spell. I kept listening to the song by different singers. One of the earlier versions was by Judy Garland in 1937; in the song, the lyrics said that she "cries" because she was hiding her feelings; in a later version by Debbie Reynold, though, she "sighs" rather than cries. This later version omits the part where the original lyrics relate his being "grand" to the fact that "I did not wanna tell you" and "I guess you always knew it". Another missing part is the sentence: "the very mention of your name makes my heart reeling". I like Garland's song more, it has more conflicts in it. Reynold's performance, though, is more feminine. One of the things you like to be confused about when you are in the mood.
يتم تحديث المدونة أسبوعيا...تابعونا :)