The Lost Notebook

It had been almost a year since I had seen Alla. Last time I saw him was in Casablanca as he bid me farewell at the Diab metro station as we ended our week-long tour of Morocco. As we got into my car yesterday in Zamalek, I mentioned to him how life works in mysterious ways. I met Alla, who is originally from Aswan, at the University of Virginia. There, we took an Arabic class on the topic of “Al Nahda” (the Arab Renaissance). After our graduation, our careers took us our separate ways. I ended up in the Arab World serving as a consultant bringing the Western knowledge to the East, and he ended up teaching Arabic in different universities in the United States (in essence bringing Eastern knowledge to the West).

The first thing I did when we got in the car was pull out a copy of “Daydreaming in Cairo,” the novel I had written over two years ago and which was recently published, and give it to Alla. My motive of giving it to Alla was twofold. First, I consider him to be one of my closest friends so I wanted to share it with him. Second, I wanted him to circulate it amongst our acquaintances in the U.S. after reading it. He was surprised to see that I had authored the book that I had just given him. However, what was more surprising was what he later told me as we drove through the streets of Cairo.

Although I thought that I had known Alla quite well, I was apparently mistaken. After briefly telling him the story of my novel’s publication, he disclosed to me that he was also a writer. I immediate thought how uncanny it must be that two really good friends were writers but had not known so about each other. He confided that, although he loved to write because it would allow him to enter an imaginary world of his own, he never shared his writing with anyone…not even his closest friends. I had always felt the same way about writing; it is indeed a very personal experience. But ever since the publication of “Daydreaming in Cairo,” I feel impelled to share my writing to the world. It is a gift that God has bestowed upon me, so why not use it to fulfill my purpose in this life?

However, unlike my writing which is generally narrative and experiential, Alla writes poetry and writes stories in lyrical language that is pleasing to the ear. I must admit that my writing is very basic in the sense that I do not make use of many, if any, literary techniques. However, Alla informed me that he is able to write in different styles. Alla then went on to tell me a sad story related to his writing career. Immediately after he had bid me farewell in Morocco, he had boarded his flight to Kuwait. On the flight, he had a sudden streak of inspiration and wrote extensively on the plane. Almost all his best writings were all documented and compiled in that notebook on which he wrote in on the flight from Morocco to Kuwait.

 What happened next would be considered a tragedy by any writer. All off-boarded the plane and left his notebook behind, never to be seen again. He tried frantically to retrieve it from the airliner but to no avail. He tried everything humanly possible to get a hold of his notebook but without success. As a writer, I know how valuable one’s collections of notebook writings could be. They are one’s only documentation of his flashes of inspiration. Alla then went on to tell me how he tried to recollect his stories in his mind and rewrite them, but they just weren’t the same as when he had first penned them in his notebook. I wanted to console him by telling him that many are the travelers that have lost their writings on journeys and that this notebook was just practice for the greater writings he is to write in the future.

 I wondered what must have been the impressions of the airline passenger who must have laid his hands on Alla’s notebook. As Alla mentioned to him, since he had never shared his writings with anyone, he wasn’t sure if his writings were “treasure or trash.” Which of the two must the passenger thought of Alla’s writings? This got me thinking, which of the two do readers think of my very own writing? Although I used to be very sensitive what others thought of my writings, I have decided to make it a point to share it with others. Life is too short to keep waiting until one produces a masterpiece. My advice to amateur writers like myself is to keep writing and to keep trying to get published. It is only through persistence that one masters the craft of writing.