The Romantic Revolutionary

Support the "My Fellow American Initiative"

2011-08-01T12:05:00.002-04:00

Having lived in the U.S. for quite sometime, I find the greatest asset the nation has is its tolerance and respect for people regardless of the ethnic and religious background. Recently, I've been approached with an initiative to help raise awareness of the importance of heterogeneity that makes America a pioneer in the promotion of liberty and human rights for its citizens.

By writing this post, I am declare my support for this initiative and implore my readers to support this cause.

For more information about this initiative, please visit:

http://myfellowamerican.us/

Coleman Barks recites Rumi Poetry

2011-06-28T14:07:00.001-04:00

A most enchanting poem...Love Dogs

The Way of the Romantic

2011-06-25T07:35:00.004-04:00

"I must create a system or be enslaved by another man's; I will not reason or compare: my business is to create."-William Blake

Reality has made me forget what it means to be a Romantic. The mundane routine of life can take its toll, making one forget his purpose in thie world. Recently, I stumbled upon an exhibition at the Tate Britain that reminded me of why I write, blog, and create. It reminded me that the Romantic is a dreamer, an idealist, a believer. The exhibition, titled the Romantic Movement, made me quite nostalgic of my Virginian days, when I was loner searching for the truth. I recall going to a used bookshop one day and buying 100 books of ecletic genres. Goethe's, Decartes', and Wordsworth's works became my new companions. Without knowing it, I was in a quest to become a Romantic.

According to a caption hung on the exhibition's entrance, Romanticism is a movement that "describes preoccupations of thinkers, writers, and artists expressed with special intensity at a particular point in history: liberty and individual rights, the creative power of the human mind and our relationship to the natural world." In a sense, I see it is a form of worship. By using one's intellect to ponder upon creation and to create and innovate, one is fulfilling his/her purpose. The poets who explored love and the beauty of nature were in essence paying tribute to the factors that make life "special."

I was in awe to see how the oil and water color paintings hung on the museum's walls were a reflection of emotions, moods, feelings experienced by their creators. For instance, Turner actively made use of Color Theory to project certain emotions. Yellow was meant to epitomize hope and divinity, whereas grey and black reflected darkness and emptiness. The Romantics coupled these techniques with images of the sublime. Natural landscapes of mountains, seas, and lakes were meant to show the grandeur of God's creation.

The fact of the matter remains that this was a purely Western movement which thrived in the 17th century. Nevertheless, as a aspiring Romantic, I imagine this movement to be more all-encompassing. Any human being who seeks to use his/her mind to wonder, dream, and create his/her own world qualifies.

As my time in London comes to a conclusion, I am grateful that my time in this city has rekindled my romanticist soul.

مشاركتي في ندوة سياسية عن مصر على البي بي سي

2011-06-13T17:47:00.003-04:00

اليوم كان عندي فرصة نادرة أن أظهر على قناة التلفزيون المشهورة، البي بي سي، علي برنامج ساعة حساب في حضور خبراء من الساحة المصرية السياسية، وأهمهم الدكتور عمرو حمزاوي. كانت حلقة اليوم عن العلاقة الجدلية بين الإطار الإسلامي والحركة اللبرالية\علمانية في مصر. أعرف أن يلعب التلفزيون دور كبير في تشكيل الأفكار السياسي في مجتمعنا، فأشعرت بأهمية هذه الفرصة لكي أعبر عن رأي. عندما تكلم حمزاوي عن الفصل بين السياسة والدين، طرحت السؤال عن النموذج التركي و إصلاحات مصطفى كمال أتاتورك و هل يرغب حمزاوي أن يرى مثل هذه الإصلاحات في مصر

في وجهة نظري، الحوار ركز على نظريات سياسية ودور الدين في السياسي وليس على مواضيع تفيد مصير مصر، مثل الرؤية الإقتصادية. علاوة على ذلك، معظم الخطاب كان له علاقة بمشاعر المتكلمين و ليس عن خطوات عملية إلى الدموقراطية

بصورة شاملة، كانت تجروبة تثقيفية لي عن الوضع في بلدي وآمل أن دأمن يكون عندي مثل هذه الفرصة أن أتعلم عن و أشارك في الحوار عن تأسيس دولة مصر الحديثة

عن مشروع كورال

2011-06-10T10:06:00.001-04:00

بقلم – شادي لويس

في نهاية الأسبوع الماضي نظمت مجموعة "المصريون المتحدون" أمسية مصرية في لندن باسم" أصوات التحرير" والتي قصد أن يذهب دخلها لصالح جرحي الثورة والذين تباطأت الدولة في علاجهم علي نفقتها حتي يومنا هذا، بدأت الأمسية بندوة سياسية اشترك فيها كل من الأستاذ جورج إسحاق و الدكتور عمرو الشوبكي والتي للأسف الشديد لم أتمكن من حضور الجزء الأكبر منها، لكن الأستاذ جورج المنسق العام السابق لحركة كفاية والعضو الحالي في مجلس حقوق الإنسان المصري أعطاني انطباعا بأنه لم يفتني الكثير بعد أن نصح المقيمين في المملكة المتحدة بالتركيز علي مطلب واحد فقط في هذه المرحلة وهو حق المصريين في الخارج في المشاركة في رسم مستقبل وطنهم وفي العملية السياسية سواء بالترشح أو الانتخاب، أما عن بقية المسائل السياسية المعلقة فتأتي لاحقة لهذا المطلب، فلا معني لمناقشة المصريين المقيمين في الخارج لمضمون الدستور القادم في مصر إذ كان لا يد لهم في انتخاب مجلس الشعب الذي سيضعه.

أما عن الجزء الثاني من الأمسية فكان عرضا غنائيا لمشروع" كورال"، وهو مشروع فني مستقل يتألف من مجموعة من الموسيقيين والمسرحيين المتطوعين الذين ينظمون ورش عمل فنية تستمر لحوالي عشرة أيام في كل مرة، ويدعون فيها كل من يرغب في الانضمام للمشاركة في صياغة أفكارهم ومشاعرهم تجاه موضوع معين في صورة أغان يتم كتابه كلماتها وتلحينها بشكل جماعي ومن ثم تأديتها في عرض فني أمام الجمهور في نهاية الورشة.

وقد بدأ مشروع كورال أول ورشة في مايو من العام الماضي في القاهرة باسم "كورال شكاوي" ثم تبعها بعد ذلك مجموعة من الورش في القاهرة وعمان وأخيرا في لندن. أما عن المجموعة التي انضمت للورشة الفنية الأخيرة في لندن والتي كان شاغلها الشاغل الثورة المصرية الوليدة فكانت تضم جنسيات مختلفة أوروبية وعربية وأن كانت في معظمها من المصريين: شباب في أوائل العشرينيات حتي أواخر الثلاثينيات منهم أطباء ومهنيون وباحثون أكاديميون ومدرسون جامعيون وطلبة و مهاجرون غير شرعيين , مجموعة ما كانت لتجتمع في مكان واحد بدون هذه المناسبة. وبعد عشرة أيام انتهت الورشة بإنتاج ثلاث أغان جديدة تضاف إلي رصيد المشروع، اثنتان من هذه الأغاني"ثورة" و"هنا وهناك" كانتا عن خبرة المشاركين وانطباعاتهم تجاه ثورة شاركوا فيها بشكل شخصي أو شاهدوها علي شاشات التليفزيون، وبكلمات بسيطة وألحان أبسط عبر المشاركون عن حبهم لوطن يعرفونه جيدا أو يعرفون عنه أقل القليل وعن أمل وفخر و قلق ومخاوف وشعور بالذنب تجاه ما يحدث فيه وتجاه مستقبله.

أظن أن القيمة الحقيقية للورشة لم تكن في المستوي الفني للأغاني المنتجة بل في التقاء هذه المجموعة من الشباب ليتبادلوا خبراتهم و أفكارهم وليتشاركوا في التعبير عن حبهم لأوطانهم ولقيم الحرية والعدل وليحتفوا بثراء اختلافاتهم وفضيلة تنوعهم وليعملوا وليبدعوا بشكل جماعي، القيمة الحقيقية كانت أيضا في البهجة التي أعاد المشاركون اكتشافها في أنفسهم و واقتسموها مع جمهورهم.

غادر مشروع كورال في اليوم التالي إلي القاهرة وسيبدأ ورشة جديدة في الإسكندرية في بداية الشهر المقبل ومن هناك ربما سيلبي الدعوات الكثيرة القادمة من مدن أخري بدءا من بيروت ووصولا لتورنتو، لكن يبدو أن مشرع كورال واحد لا يكفي بل ربما هناك حاجة لألف مشروع كورال فني وثقافي ليجوبوا مدننا وقرانا ليكشفوا عن آفاق رحبة لشباب ضاقت بهم الدنيا وتلخصت في اللهاث وراء لقمة العيش أو في الاستعداد للآخرة و ليفتحوا أبوابا للإبداع والمبادرة الفردية والعمل والجماعي وليأصلوا قيم الاختلاف والتنوع وليعيدوا اكتشاف المتعة في مجتمع أثقلته همومه وآلامه طويلا.

The Choir Project in London

2011-06-06T14:20:00.003-04:00

A concert in London I was privileged to participate in in support of the Egyptian Revolution.

I am bold and unafraid. Or so I thought...

2011-06-05T10:07:00.004-04:00

There are somethings that I don't like to write about in public, i.e. my emotions... but since I don't have a moleskin to write in, I guess I'll have to spill my thought here. Besides, I've taken an oath in this life to be transparent and sincere... I've got nothing to hide... I dissect my heart on this page and let it seep this page in emotions....

Sometimes I write because I enjoy it, but mostly because I need to. Its at times like these when I feel uncertain and confused that I just need to talk to someone. There's no better friend to lend an ear than the paper. It just listens to you cry your emotions out without critiquing and that's what I need right now.

I haven't felt this way in so long...it kind of scares me because before what happened happened, I felt so secure in the fortress of my maturity, confidence, and conviction. But in a heart beat, all that I felt so certain of seems to have dissipated. The grandeur of my self-perceived aura has gradually whithered away. I am bare as bones... The armor that made me immune from the emotional sensitivities has molten. I am bare once again...Its an awful feeling of insecurity that I thought I would never have to face again in my life....

But there is one ray of light that still gives me hope... that if its meant to be, it will be. Yes, I know, its the fatalist in me coming out once again, but I can't help it. Fatalism is only all I can cling to in these moments of hopelessness.

Thank God the emotional storm has passed, for now at least. But does physical separation necessarily imply metal detachment as well? I don't know... I'm confused. Writing seems to be getting me nowhere.

Enough gibberish for now...

Naguib Sawiris Talk @ SOAS

2011-05-22T15:40:00.003-04:00

"We have a long way to go," I though to myself as I left the talk. I just returned to the dorm from talk at London's School of Oriental and African Studies by Naguib Sawiris, who was promoting his newly established political party, the Free Egyptians. I was delighted when a friend informed that the talk was taking place in London because Sawiris is one of my role models. He is splendid example of an "Egyptian success story." Hearing him talk in person truly affirmed my that notion.

There's a lot that happened during the talk that is reflective of the current situation. The main theme of the talk was that the revolution was prone to being hijacked by forces who do not seek to serve Egypt's national interest. Sawiris warned that the demographics of the "revolutionaries" was gradually changing, unfortunately, for the worse... The liberal, intellectual, progressive youth who aimed to steer Egypt to a more desirable future are starting to become replaced by forces of various religious and political ideologies struggling for power to serve their self-interests. Sawiris claimed that many of the youth who spearheaded the revolution thought that they had achieved their objective by overthrowing Mubarak's regime. Obviously he was referring to the recent clashes between extremists (both Copts and Muslims) who had led to recent clashes. When this sensitive subject came up during the talk and the Q & A session, many Muslims and Copts began speaking up. Minorities from both religious groups began making comments criticizing one another. Actually, at one point, a fight broke out when a Copt directly insulted Islam. The situation flared at that point, but fortunately people came to their senses when another Copt formally apologized on behalf of the other Copts to the Muslims, and the apology was accepted.

It was at this point that the true sound of reason spoke to my ears. An old Coptic woman sitting next to me began explaining to a bearded Muslim man sitting behind me the following:

"We are all Egyptians. We should never let this minority break us apart. In the 1948, 1967, and 1973 Wars, Copts and Muslims fought side by side. Their blood mixed with one another. Never in these wars did a Muslim tell a Copt to go fight in front of him or vice versa. We must remain resilient in the face of those who want to break us apart."

These words of wisdom and nobility struck a chord within me. Regardless of whatever faith I adhere to, I shall always let my humanity supersede. What bewilders me is how we Egyptians have regressed to such barbarism. Egypt has always been a land of tolerance. Muslims and Copts have embraced one another for more than a thousand years. Prophet Muhammed was always gentle and just with Christians, and I am sure that he would have put justice above religious allegiance. I even recall reading a Hadith in which a delegation of Christians began praying in Prophet Muhammed's mosque and even though the Muslims wanted to stop them from doing so, the Prophet ordered that the Christians should be left to pray and worship freely.

The point is, people get so caught up in the moment that they forget what their religions actually preach. Any Muslim or Christian who defies religious tolerance and harmony is going against the teachings of his religion, in my opinion. Sawiris put it so brilliantly during the talk when he claimed, "If I have choose between my identity and allegence to Egypt or Christianity, I choose Egypt." Even though we are all faithful Muslims and Christians, we should not let fundamentalists hijack our religion and politics. "We hope to see Egypt as Turkey, and not Iran," Sawiris went on to claim.

The thing about Egyptian politics is that everyone seems to have an ego and wants to be in the limelight. What impressed me about Sawiris is humble approach. He does not seek the presidency, even of his own party...but actually wants to make a positive difference. He claimed to modernize, we need to have a free, liberal, secular system. Secularism doesn't mean atheism, but it recognizes that forces can hijack religion to serve their political self-interests. Sawiris cited Ataturks' secularist revolution and the seperation of the State and the Church in the Western World as sources of progress. Now he didn't encourage the religious nihilism that has prevailed in the West, but recognizes that religion is best kept in the private sphere of life.

I can go on and on to explain the merits of Sawiris' talk, but the chaos in the audience during the Q&A session made me realized that the Egyptians still have a long way to go in fully absorbing the principles of democracy. This was the cream of Egyptian society, and they could not conduct the Q&A session without tension and disrespect to one another. What happened to the civilization, discipline, and tolerance that Tahrir Square taught us? How do we expect to have a full-fledged democracy if we couldn't control ourselves in a small auditorium in London? People were confused and upset. Some people left half way through the Q&A session. For some reason, I did not give up hope. I know that every problem has a solution. I pray that God bestows Muslims and Copts with the wisdom, benevolence, and enlightenment that the old Coptic lady sitting beside me had revealed in the few words she spoke.

Although I heard some in the crowd murmur, "I'm not ready to go back to Egypt." I thought the complete opposite. It is my life's purpose to return to my nation at this point and do what I can, no matter how little I may have to offer.

I pray that God guides us all to the straight path.

مصر القديمة

2011-05-13T16:12:00.003-04:00

اليوم ختمت كتاب قصيرعن اجدادي، و هم القدماء المصريين. في الماضي، لم أهتم بتريخ مصر الفرعوني كما يجب على. بعد الثورة، اشعرت بالالتزام أن أزود معرفتي عن هويتي. علاوة على ذلك، كنت أريد أن أتعلم عن تريخ مصر من وجهة نظر مصرية، و ليست من منظور غربي برغم أن معظم تريخنا مسجل بيد الغربيين

في أحد من رحلاتي إلي ميدان التحرير بعد الثورة، قررت أن أستكشف الشوارع الجانبية في وسط البلد. في هذه الجولة وجدت مكتبة المدبولي، و هي من أشهر مكاتب القاهرة. دخلت المكتبة و سألت عن كتاب "الأيام" الذي كتبه طه حسين عن حياته. عندما إنتظرت البائع يبحث عن نسخه من هذا الكتاب، التفتت عيناي إلى جزء من المكتبة تحمل كتب نجيب محفوظ. اعشق كتبات محفوظ خصوصا كتابته عن تريخ مصر. في الماضي قرأت "كفاح طيبة" وعجبني خيال محفوظ وأسلوب روايته. رأيت من ضمن عناوين الكتب كتاب عنوانه "مصر القديمة". شرح لي البائع أن هذا الكتاب مجرد مجموعة من الفصول عن مواضيع مختلفه كتبها محفوظ عن القدماء المصريين . ظننت أن هذا الكتاب مثالي لي في بحثي عن الهوية المصرية. أشتريت كتابين من كتب محفوظ و كتاب حسين الأيام

بدأت رحلتي الإستكشافية عن تريخ مصر أثنا عودتي إلى لندن. أنهيت أول ربع من الكتاب على الطائرة. ماذا عجبني عن الكتاب هو نظرته العامة عن الحياة المصرية من آلاف السنين. يصور لنا محفوظ تفصيل الحاة اليومية وتقاليد أجدادنا الثقافية والدينية . بالإضافة إلى ذلك، يكتب الكاتب عن حيات الفرعون و الجندي المصري. أعجبني كيف عرف محفوظ أن يروي كل هذه الأبعاد المختلفة عن حضارة قديمة بعين للتفاصيل الدقيقة جدا.

أكثر موضوع أحببته في الكتاب هو عن الديانة المصرري القديمة و كيف كان يؤمن القدماء بالأخرة كما نعتقد الأن أن يوجد حياة أبادي بعد الموت. يكتب محفوظ ، "يجب علينا ألا ننسى أن المصريين تواصلوا كذلك لمعرفة جانب عظيم من الحقيقة التي قررتها الأديان التوحيدية، فكانوا يعتقدون بأن أفعال الإنسان في الدنيا هي التي تقرر مصيره في الأخرة وأن الشرير وإن نجا من العقاب في الدنيا فالآلهة لا تتركة في الدنيا الأخرى بلا حساب أو عقاب." إذن، يلخص محفوظ سر و حق هذه الحياة و هو أن العدل سيطبق ذات يوم. مثل جميع كتابات محفوظ، هذا الكتاب يرزقنا بالحكمة والمعرفة

آمل أن اختتام هذا الكتاب فقد أول خطوة لي في رحلتي في التعليم عن بلدي، لغتي، ثقافتي، ديانتي، و هويتي. كما أقول عندما أبدأ أي رحله: توكلت على اللة

A Tribute to the Egyptian People by a Palestinian

2011-04-30T08:43:00.001-04:00

The most beautiful words I've heard about the revolution...

The Guardian's Contribution to the Revolution

2011-04-26T05:41:00.002-04:00

I just left my Strategy seminar awed by an inspirational talk by the Managing Director of the Guardian, Tim Brooks. Recently, with the unfolding of the Arab Revolutions, I have held independent media in high esteem for its ability to shape world events. The Guardian always offered an insightful perspective on what takes place behind the scenes. As a professional news agency, its journalists seemed committed to the truth.

Although the class discussion was about the Guardian's business model and how the news agency is coping with the inevitable shift from print to digital media, I was fortunate enough to approach Brooks at the end of the talk to ask him a question that boggled my mind for sometime, " How did the Guardian get a hold of a true estimate of Mubarak's fortune?"

The reason meeting Brooks meant a lot to me was because of how the Guardian's article about Mubarak's $70 bn fortune tipped the scale in favor of the Egyptian revolution's success. At a time when my nation was at an inflection point, and Egypt's destiny stood on a thin line between revolution and counter-revolution, it was this news about the abhorent corruption that had plagued our governing system that drove the final nail in the Mubarak regime's coffin.

I was curious to find out how the Guardian had obtained exclusive access to this piece of information. According to Brooks, Julian Assange, the founder of Wikileaks, got hold of 200,000 diplomatic cable leaks. Instead of releasing them all, he collaborated with news agencies, such as the Guardian and the New York Times, to filter through them and release ones that would have a strategic impact. It was during the climax of the Egyptian revolution that the Guardian decided to release the news of Mubarak's fortune and expose the a secret that the U.S. and Egyptian governments had withheld thus far.

It was amazing how a single piece of information could shape a nation's history. I personally thanked Brooks as an Egyptian for his agency's decision to commit itself the truth. Athough a lecture by the head of a news agency that has been around since 1821 was a treat in and of itself, a conversation up close and in person with Mr. Brooks about how his agency contributed to my nation's history was more than I could ever ask for!

Tahrir: The Friday of Purification & Trial

2011-04-10T12:03:00.004-04:00

Since the 25th of January, 2011, I had constantly been dreaming of the day when I would be able to join the crowds in Tahrir Square who celebrate the victory of the Egyptian Revolution and inch towards a liberal and democratic Egypt each day. April 8th would be the day.

Since the collapse of the Mubarak regime, the revolutionaries have made it a tradition to unite each Friday in Tahrir Square to express the solidarity of all the different colours of the Egyptian political and religious spectrum, keep the revolutionary fire burning, and demand that cronies of the former regime be brought to justice. Hence, April 8th was deemed the Friday of Purification (of Egypt from corruption) and the Trial (of Mubarak and other corrupt members of the former regime).

As I entered Tahrir Square at approximately 10am from the adjacent Abdel-Meneim Riydad Square, I was surprised to see the square quite empty. There were various stages set up on the various corners of the square. At first, it almost seemed like I had entered a carnival. Each stage showed different talents. The first square showcased political poetry by different youths. One filled his poetry with satire, another with comedy, and a third with hope. I then walked around the round-about in the middle of the square to see a second stage with a person from the Muslim Brotherhood preaching social justice. A third stage was headed by a Nasserist declaring solidarity with revolutionaries in Libya, Palestine, and Syria.

I had heard many stories in London of people who had witnessed Tahrir Square first hand, and they painted a utopian image of the Square in my mind. They made it seem like a place euphoric place where Egyptians epitomised human creativity, virtues, principles, comradeship, respect, and dignity. They were true to their world. As the influx of people into the Square grew, the scene became so much more vibrant. Despite the various stages chanting different patriotic slogans and playing various revolutionary songs, there was a sense of tranquility and magnificence amongst all the chaos.

The experience took on a divine dimension during Friday prayer. When the call to prayer took place, the square all of the sudden became dead silent. I was awed by how the call to connect with God had unanimously been respected by all, Muslims and Christians alike. As everyone faced al-Qibla, and the Imam who was giving the Friday prayer speech, I thought to myself that this must be what Hajj (pilgrimage) to Mecca's Ka'ba must be like. The Imam's sermon focused on the fact that justice must be upheld and that the treason and corruption of the former regime must be persecuted. He also emphasised that we are all Egyptians; it did not manner what political ideology or religious affiliation you ascribed to, we are all Egyptians. He also preached the importance of tolerance and respect of other's opinions. When the Friday prayer took place, it was quite emotional. Many around me began to tear because the Imam had made several invocations to God calling for Him to bring about justice, improve our situation, protect the gains of the revolution, and have mercy on the revolution's martyrs.

After the prayer, the crowds resumed their chanting. It was so crowded on the ground that I could literally feel my rib cage about to be crushed! Despite the hustle and bustle, people were very courteous to one another. Amidst the crowd of men, there was a women who seemed trapped. I wanted to suggest to her that it might be a good idea if she made her way out, but it seemed impossible. Once some of the other men noticed her, they called on everyone to give her space and make a safe passage for her to exit the crowd. It was this respect and chivalry that made Tahrir Square quite a special place.

As I struggled to make my way out of the crowd, I noticed that some photographers stood on the roof of an apartment building. Suddenly, I realised that that would be an ideal location to take panoramic photos of what was going on on the crowd. I wormed my way through the crowd until I finally was able to make it to the sidewalk, where I could finally take a full breath of air. I then scouted the area until I found the building's entrance. I ran up the nine or so stories of the building. To actually make it to the roof involved some unconventional climbing, but I eventually made it. The sight from the building's top was absolutely breathtaking. The scene below appeared to me as if I were staring at a sea of people. Like an ant colony, the demonstrators were miraculously very well organised. As one would expect, the three dominant colours were red, white, and black... From up there, once could see the whole picture. Together, the Egyptian people were a force to reckoned with.

The Writer's Inspiration

2011-04-05T04:05:00.002-04:00

In the name of God, the most Compassionate, the most Merciful

Write! And We shall tell you what

Concepts far beyond what you have thought

"Which of the favours of your Lord will you deny?"

Servant of Allah! Into this world we have you brought.

Write! And We shall give you the Script

Think! And We shall give you the light

Man! Against evil you have won every fight

To converge with Truth, Virtue, and Right.

Write! And We shall give you the words

Thoughts poised like the flight of birds

Where life is free of hypocrites and cowards

And We shall rescue you from the plight of herds.

Write! And the Pen shall start to scribble

Think! and the soul shall start to tremble

In the Presence of Allah, the words turn humble

It is not for you ever again to try to assemble.

"Names of Allah"

First Impressions of the New Egypt

2011-04-05T02:52:00.004-04:00

My stay so far has been a heavy dose of reality. My flowery notions of the revolution are slowly fading away. I thought I would return to a completely revolutionised Egypt. In my mind, I imagined an Egypt free of corruption, poverty, injustice, inequality, and ignorance, but to my bitter disappointment, these are all still traits of daily life. What kills me the most about all of this is that I still feel powerless. I wish I could, with the stoke of a pen, write Egypt's new future as I dream of it. At the very least, my stay here has taught me that both Egypt and I have a very long way to go...

My first impressions of the Revolution are not the best, I'm afraid to say. Coming from London, it feels like I've only been exposed to the rosy images of the revolution. From my ivory tower, I've failed to see the intricacies of the revolution's aftermath. In my mind's eye, I envisioned that the people, buildings, sky, etc... would look differently. The fact of the matter is Egypt, and I, are still soul-searching.

On my way to Tahrir Square, to pay tribute to the revolution's symbol, it seemed like life was back to normal and there weren't that many traces of a revolution. On the way, there were a plethora of commercial billboards with the Egyptian flag and a patriotic slogan, but traffic was chaotic as usual. The real residue of the revolution is in apparent in several burnt buildings across the city. Several police stations were burnt, but one thing that upset me was the sight of the burnt down Suzanne Mubarak Library. I can understand the anger at the former first lady, but did it really justify burning down a whole library with all the wealth of knowledge it contained? Whatever happened to our objective of eliminating illiteracy?

I can go on listing other observations that disappointed me, but I don't think it is helpful. My main concern about the revolution is people's outlook. People seem insecure about the future. Everyone seems to be taking sides and politics has become a tool to divide, rather than unite, the Egyptian people. Sure there is fanaticism, but that shouldn't scare us about the possibilities. The media has fuelled this fire by blowing several negative incidents out of proportion. Its essential to keep our cool, remain bold, and stick to the universal principles of justice, truth, and mutual respect regardless of our political or religious affiliation.

On a brighter note, its been endearing experience seeing posters commemorate the revolution's martyrs. These were the men and women God had chosen to purify Egypt. May He shelter them in the shade of His mercy. Other than that, it seems like the Egyptians have awakened a sense of love for their country. Flags flap on right and left now. On my way from the airport, I passed by two army vehicles transporting soldiers, and I couldn't help but salute them with by waving a small flag my aunt had given me upon arrival.

The past four months since I was in Egypt feel like four decades. Much has changed, and I find myself like a stranger in his own home. As I try to acquaint myself with my new surroundings, I pray that God will guide me to find my place and fulfil whatever destiny is written for me.

From Dream to Reality

2011-03-31T13:18:00.012-04:00

So far, this revolution has been a pleasant dream. The footage of freedom fighters liberating my countries on a 15 inch computer screen seems too surreal to be true. Whenever I get the chance, I keep replaying YouTube videos of the revolution to remind myself that what I’ll be returning to tomorrow will be a different Egypt than the one I left in December.

Living in different countries feels like living multiple lives. Leaving a country is like passing away from one life to being resurrected to the next. My life in London seems like an temporary illusion at times. At times, I’ll need to pinch myself to make sure it isn’t just a dream. I keep waiting for the moment when my London dream will end and I’ll be brought back to life. It’s almost like the Ancient Egyptians’ preparation for the hereafter. My ancestors would live their whole lives preparing for the inevitable moment of death to enter into the next world. In my case, I’ve been bracing myself for the moment when I would set foot on my motherland’s soil again.

There’s something mystical about living in Egypt. Every time the airplane’s cabin doors unlock open, I feel like the air that seeps into my lungs brings me back to life. As much as I anticipate seeing my family at the arrival section of the airport, I have many other things to look forward to. I waking up the next morning to the dawn call to prayer, sitting by the window and have the morning glow of the sun’s rays warm me as I sip on tea and listen to a nearby dove coo. When I set out for Cairo’s bustling streets, I love hearing my native language fill my ears. ‘At last, Arabic!’ I think to myself after not hearing my beloved language for so long. I love knowing that I’m no longer a visitor or foreigner, but that this is somewhere I actually belong. I love crossing over the Nile Corniche and see the glistering water of the world’s mightiest river surrounded by deep greenery and palm trees of the Nile Delta. I love thinking to myself, I’m finally home.

For the first time in my life, this return to Egypt will be different. Egypt and its people have changed for the better. My reunion with my nation and people will be a humbling experience. These are the Egyptians who took to the streets to pave a free destiny for themselves. These are the Egyptians who inspired people in the East and West to fight for their rights. These are the Egyptians who made history once again. It seems too good to be true to be returning to this.

I am a firm believer of the Quran’s saying, “Verily with every hardship there is relief.” After all the pain and suffering that Egyptians have gone through, they have finally begun to see the light at the end of what seems like a very long and dark tunnel. Similarly, I have begun to believe that the recent unrest in London over the UK’s government budget cuts is a sign that freedom and justice must be fought for universally. After labouring away over the past few weeks to succeed in my exams, I feel like that all of the effort I have put in my studies in my life will not go to waste. Some day, I believe, I will be able to put my knowledge to the service of Egypt and humanity.

Tomorrow will be a historic day for me. April 1st, 2011 will be the day I return to a free Egypt. This day will also be marked by a gathering of a million people in Tahrir Square to show solidarity with the revolution and to show their commitment to keep the revolutionary fire burning. I hope to be able to join my countrymen tomorrow. I imagine joining them will be like a lost lion finally joining his pride of lions. Although I have not proven my valour and chivalry like the revolutionaries who freed my country, I feel a spiritual connection with these men and women who wrote Egypt’s new history with their blood. Returning to Egypt will be my chance to acquaint myself with the needs of the revolution, to internalize the revolutionary spirit, and return to London with a stronger will to learn as much as I can to put Egypt on the forefront of the international arena.

Despite my deep love for Egypt, this shouldn’t be mistaken with blind nationalism. I love Egypt because I love all humanity. I believe that Egypt, the cradle of human civilization, has the potential to usher a new universal era of righteousness. I seek to do what I can to keep Egypt’s revolution burning so that it could ignite a revolution for universal peace, solidarity, and egalitarianism. Ultimately, I hope that my efforts to serve Egypt will have a greater impact to serve the world.

With these intentions and ideas in mind, I pray that my journey to Egypt will be a fruitful one. Finally, the time has come when I shall awake from my dream of the revolution to join its reality.

The New Revolutionaries

2011-03-03T05:51:00.003-05:00

"On behalf of the University of London Egyptian Student Association," I kicked off the post-lecture Q&A session, "I would like to express my utmost gratitude, Ms. Ahdaf Soueif, for your endearing account of your experiences in Tahrir Square, and Professor Gilbert Achcar, for your insightful analysis of the Egyptian Revolution."

This was the first official event that we, as Egyptian students in London, had organized to commemorate the our generation's revolution. I was pleased to see a large turn out to this event at the School of Oriental and African Studies. Supporters of all stripes and colors came out to hear of a revolution that symbolized fundamental human values: freedom, dignity, and justice.

Although I wasn't privledged to play a physical role in the Revolution, I felt it to be imperative to lend a hand to my compatriots back home. After engaging in an intellectual debate regarding the role of the Egyptian Army in the Revolution with Professor Achcar, I was amused to witness the passion in the air about what this revolution meant to people. There was a gentleman in his 80s who, in awe, exclaimed, "What these youth have achieved is a miracle! I am an Egyptian expatriat, and when I was 19, I witnessed the 1952 Revolution first hand. That revolution was stolen from the people by the army! But this time, this is a people's revolution thanks to you the Youth!"

Hearing various similar accounts made me realized that my generation has achieved something that my parents' generation could not have achieved in the past 30 years! I was humbled by the power of my generation's ideas and activism. To be honest, I doubted that we could ever achieve such glory. I always thought I was a loner, hence the name of this blog. I thought I would always be a "Romantic Revolutionary" and that the revolution I had always dreamed about would be a mere bourgeoisie fantasy. I guess I didn't have enough faith and hope in the possibilities. Although my imagination was limitless about the possibilities of taking Egypt and the Arab World forward, I wasn't a believe. But I can tell you one thing, this revolution has lit a spark in that will blaze forever in my and the hearts of my generation's compatriots.

This week, we have been working prolifically to organize events to raise awareness about what Egypt's victory means, commemorate the freedom, and prepare for the future.

More about our (i.e. Egyptian students in London) activities to follow...

This is what a revolution sounds like...

2011-02-23T12:27:00.001-05:00

Obama's Eloquent Tribute to the Egyptian Revolution

2011-02-23T12:24:00.001-05:00

The Realization of Al-Nahda

2011-02-23T11:47:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I picked up the latest edition of The Economist magazine, proud to see that the spotlight is on Egypt once again. But something was different about this edition. Upon looking at its cover, something resonated within me. There was something alluring about its title, "The Awakening." At first, I didn't quite realize what attracted me so much to these two words, but I toyed around with the phrase in my mind until it struck me later that night as I flipped the glossy pages of Egypt's contemporary history. The Awakening was finally the realization of Al-Nahda the Arabs have always dreamed about!

I had lived my whole life wondering what the solution to the "Egyptian Problem" would ever be. I was sure there had to be a solution. I was trained as an engineer, a profession all about problem-solving, but for some reason I always felt like the "Egyptian Problem" was unsolvable. What could ever reverse our course of history and return us to our magnificent past, the Golden Age of Islamic Empire and the splendors of Ancient Egyptian civilization? It seemed like we Egyptians, in particular, and Arabs, as a whole, were destined to rot under political repression, ignorance, and poverty. Whenever I travelled abroad, I felt that the world was running. Having lived in China, India, the U.S., and Turkey, I felt like there was so much momentum in these nations. People across the world were racing to gain a competitive edge over one another. Yet, when I returned to Egypt, I didn't feel the same energy and dynamism. Unfortunately, people always thought I was naive because of my optimistic thoughts. They were always pessimistic, looking at the empty half of the glass. I swore to make it my life mission to prove them wrong. Hitherto, I dedicated as much effort and resources as I could to make a positive impact on Egypt and its people.

I have always been inquisitive about Al-Nahda, the period in Arab history deemed to be its Renaissance. The reason this period had such an allure in my mind was because it was quite recent, beginning in the 19th century and lasting through the 20th century. It was the period when we gained our independence from Western colonialism and when Arab political and social thought literature. It was a bold attempt at modernizing the Arab World that manifested itself in the works of Mohamed Abdou, Refeh el-Tahtawi, al-Jabarti, and Ahmed Shawqi. These great men looked at the West and sought to emulate its civilization's great achievements in the Arab World. For the first time in the modern era, the Arabs embarked on an intellectual discourse that sought to define their modern identity while preserving the jewels of their Islamic and cultural heritage. I had the honor of being a student of Professor Sawaie, an expert of Al-Nahda at the University of Virginia, where we read primary sources of what was going on in the minds of Al-Nahda's pioneers. I've always believed that it was Al-Nahda's ethos that would awaken the Arabs and make them realize that they have a pivotal role to play on the world stage.

My confusion about the Egyptian Problem and my dreams of Al-Nahda coming into fruition finally confronted on another on January 25, 2011 when young Egyptians took to the streets to declare to the world that their time has come to take matters into their own hands and emerge. For the past 200 years, no philosopher or public thinker had been able to make a breakthrough significant enough to spark Al-Nahda into reality. Al-Nahda, up to that historic date, had always been a figment of the Arabs' imagination, remaining unrealized in many dusty books and studied only in theory. Finally, its time had come to take birth. The Egyptian youth showed the world that the Arabs and Muslims vie for the same things that the rest of the world needs to live harmoniously, namely prosperity, democracy, and modernization.

The Egyptian Revolution of 2011 had finally answered the Egyptian Problem and sparked the long-awaited beacon of Al-Nahda. The Arabs have finally regained control of their destiny and their consciousness that they are worth something and that they have a crucial role to play in the world as their ancestors did. The Egyptian Revolution has had reverberating effects across the region, with revolutions flaring up from the Atlantic Ocean to the Persian Gulf. Soon, the dictators that have imprisoned the Arabs will fall and their repressive regimes will crumble. It is only then, when we have achieved true free freedom will the Arabs have their say, domestically through democratic systems, and internationally through a true representation of the Arab people's ambitions and aspirations in shaping the new world order.

My Egyptian generation, I salute your bold accomplishments. You have achieved what many men have dreamed of their whole lives but have passed away without seeing come into existence. You have written history with your tears, sweat, and blood. But even more importantly, you have lit the kindle that will ignite the flame of realizing Al-Nahda.

Egyptian Revolution Celebrations in London

2011-02-12T16:10:00.012-05:00

Today, I was fortunate to celebrate the victory of the Egyptian Revolution in London's Trafalgar Square with my fellow Egyptians. Below are a couple more photos to capture the overwhelming joy of many Egyptians like myself who wished to be in Tahrir, instead of Trafalgar, Square taking part in a well-deserved victory of the Egyptian people.

I pray that Egypt's new dawn will usher a revival of our nation's glorious civilization.

Jan 29, 2011: Egyptian Demonstrations in London

2011-02-12T15:49:00.018-05:00

A couple of photos I had taken during the outbreak of the Egyptian Revolution. On January 29, approximately the Egyptian community in the U.K. stood outside of the Egyptian Embassy in London for hours to protest the police brutality and despotism of the Mubarak regime against Egyptian civilians. Approximately 2,000 students from various London universities joined Egyptian demonstrators to express their solidarity and support with the Egyptian people in their pursuit of freedom and justice.

I hope my photos provide a glimpse into the passion, love, and dedication these demonstrators showed for Egypt and its people.

For a more professional photographic coverage of these events, please visit Athoob's page at athoob.com.

Freedom at last!

2011-02-12T07:04:00.003-05:00

I just woke up, and it seems that I had the sweetest dream of my life. This dream started off with me praying Salat-el-Asr pleading for God to have mercy on my people and free them from tyranny and injustice. I was on the verge of reminding God to keep his promise of victory to the believers of equality, justice, freedom, and righteousness. I finished my prayer with the conviction that I will maintain my devotion to Him regardless of the outcome of the Egyptian Revolution.

I packed my bag, Egyptian flag, and made my way to the Egyptian Embassy in London for another of what seemed like countless demonstrations to cry for an end to the atrocities committed against my brothers and sisters in Egypt. As I made my way, I crossed by a TV screen airing CNN news with the following words running across the bottom of the screen:

"Breaking News: Mubarak resigns as president of Egypt"

I could believe these words and thought I had misread them, but once I saw the footage of Midan Tahrir explode in jubilation, I began to believe that the miracle had finally occurred! I caught the first red double-decker bus to Marble Arch station, where I jumped off and sprinted as fast as I could to the Egyptian Embassy. I couldn't control my happiness!

As I ran across the American Embassy and London's posh Mayfair district, all I could think of was how God had blessed our beloved Egypt with the final greatest gift: freedom! Egypt is endowed with the world's greatest history, culture, civilisation, and people. All that was missing was justice, freedom, and our rights!

My cellphone rang several times and when I picked up, it was my mother congratulating me in hysteria: "Mabrooooook ya Mosti! He's finally gone!" She them told me how she and my two aunts joined the ocean of people in front the Presidential Palace in Heliopolis to celebrate our victory!

As I finally reached the Egyptian Embassy, what had always been a gloomy scene of anger and disgust of the protesters emerged as a joyous scene with everyone chanting patriotic slogans and songs. Kids and grown-ups alike were waving flags, jumping in exhilaration, running around. I was as if we'd all been slaves for our whole lives and had just been granted our right to liberty. Even the little toddlers who had no idea what was going on were bursting with joy!

We sang and danced until sundown when we all gathered to pray Maghrib on the cold, wet London street. Despite my earnest gratitude to God, I was completely sidetracked in my prayer with disbelief that we had finally come out victorious! Afterwards, we prayed Salat-el-Ghaeb in remembrance of the Revolution's martyrs. After the prayers, we chanted:

"افرح افرح يا شاهيد! انت في جنة و احنا في عيد"

As darkness overtook the sky, all hundred demonstrators (or should I say celebrators) decided to take the party to Edgware Road, the Arab hub of London. We formed two straight lines and were led by the London metropolitan police. During the half-hour walk, we chanted, drummed, sang, cried, and experienced every emotion related to complete elation and euphoria! As we walked through the alleys of London, people looked out of their windows in curiosity. Those aware of what had just happened gave us two thumbs up.

As we made it to Edgware Road, all heads turned towards the walking parade celebrating a new chapter of world history! Britons, Arabs, Africans, and every other ethnicity on that street joined in celebrating. This was truly a victory for all of humanity against injustice, tyranny, and outright evil!

Cars that passed through the street showed their support by honking. Soon, Algerians, Libyans, Syrians, Saudis and all our oppressed Arab brothers joined in by chanting "Salute to Egypt!" Once again, Egypt would serve as an example for the region! After celebrating our success, we chanted, "Freedom to Palestine, freedom to Syria, freedom to Algeria, freedom to Libya, etc..."

It was amazing how all of London seemed to join in celebrating. After celebrating for five hours or so, I decided to take a break with Sherif, a fellow comrade who'd joined me in all the demonstrations, and ate at el-Shishawy, London's main Egyptian restaurant. To celebrate, we had Koshary and Om Ali and watched the festivities in Midan Tahrir on Al-Jazeera. Although I wish I was there, I was certain that I had been sent to London for a reason, i.e. to help build Egypt's new future.

Afterwards, we returned to scene of celebrations, where the festivities had died down a bit. Shocked, we grabbed the megaphone and started to chant: "El Masreeyen Ahom, Ahom Ahom Ahom!" Once again, the crowd joined in and we began chanting patriotic songs, some of which I'd begun to know by heart from being amidst the demonstrators for so long. We continued till midnight, for what seemed to be a never-ending night! As my energy waned, I bid my brothers and sisters farewell and made my way home.

As I got on the tube, all I could think about was the day I would reunite with my beloved Egypt. Although I'd always loved Egypt, I was certain that what I would return to would be different. As President Obama rightly put it, "Egypt will never be the same!"

At the moment, I am preparing to go join a second day of festivities. This time in the heart of London, Trafalgar Square. Today, Egyptians will shake the heart of the Western World by reminding them that they are the people who founded the world's greatest civilizations, that they are the ones who singlehandedly preserved their dignity, freedom, and justice, and that they are the ones who will write history once again!

تعيش الثورة المصريه الى الابد

London Demonstrations in Support of Egyptian People

2011-01-28T19:03:00.004-05:00

I am restless; I have been unable to sleep. I am cut off from Egypt. I have never been in such fear for my family, my people, and my country.

I had no one to share this anxiety and internal turmoil with. As a lost soul, I found myself heading towards the Egyptian Embassy in London where I assumed demonstrations would take place to express solidarity with the plight of my fellow countrymen.

Although I always thought my revolutionary days were a mere delusion and that change would never come to Egypt, today's events have proven that justice is possible. Even though I feared appearing at the site of the demonstrations for fear of the tyrannical government taking note of it, today Egyptians have broken the fear factor that has existed due to 30 years of despotism.

I arrived at the scene were there were a mere dozen compatriots, all shivering due to the cold. As time passed, we were joined by more and more compatriots. As our strength grew in numbers, so did our voice, our passion, and our yearning that God protect our innocent compatriots against the brutality of Mubarak's regime.

It was endearing seeing brothers and sisters from all walks of life come and share their support. The revolutionary atmosphere gave us warmth, and with every victory our people achieved we felt closer to the light at the end of the tunnel.

I pray that God brings justice.

Solidarity with defenders of justice and freedom

2011-01-27T19:22:00.003-05:00

I had long renounced my days of radical revolutionism with the delusion that justice was unattainable through resistance, defiance, and struggle in these days, and, if anything, Egyptians were apathetic to their injustice. Well, if anything, my compatriots proved me wrong, and I'm proud of them for doing so.

The events that shook Egypt and captured major international headlines this week have never made me long to be in my motherland so badly. I had avoided writing about politics in Egypt due to the sensitivity of the issue, but the Egyptian uprising in light of the nation's evident need for justice and freedom has shown the world that dictatorships are a thing of the past and that its only a matter of time until people prove victorious in attaining their right to self-determination.

Although I would do anything to be on the streets of Cairo advocating for social justice, I know that there's a reason why I'm here in the UK laboring night and day to help write Egypt's brighter page in history.

My prayer and solidarity with my countrymen...

The Triumphant II

2010-08-31T01:36:00.005-04:00

Photos of Al-Mu'izz Street by night during Ramadan (August 29, 2010).

The Triumphant I

2010-08-31T00:52:00.009-04:00

Photos of Al-Mu'izz Street around sunset (August 26th, 2010).

Musings of the Mind in Cairo

2010-08-30T11:18:00.003-04:00

I don't have a specific topic in mind this time around, but my fingers have been craving to spill some words on this blog.

Every since I've returned to Cairo, its all seemed like one long hazy dream. The majestic Athans that fill the air with their clamoring grandeur, the omnipresent solar and lunar orbs that continuously illuminate the sky, the intermittent desert breeze that caresses one's face as a relief from the intense humidity, the subdued consciousness of one's self that accompanies fasting and praying have all intensified my connection with His supreme will.

Cairo has made me forget the past and neglect the future. One can only keep track of the present. The soul of this city envelops one so tightly like the Angel Gabriel suffocated the Prophet during the Night of Al-Qadr that one loses one's sense of himself and submits to the universe surrounding him. Cairo has enchanted me with its beauty, its vibrance, and its eternity. Inside the eyes of every Egyptian, I witness the whole experience of humankind... Ever since my return, I have started to question everything I felt was so certain in life. My ambitions, my identity, my beliefs, etc... are all being scrutinized against in the context of being back in Egypt. Its kind of a surreal feeling. My days here are passing rapidly, but time seems to have frozen...

I am constantly processing and evaluating ideas about what my purpose in life is supposed to be. If there's one aspiration I have to gain from Ramadan, it is divine guidance. I am in a bind where I can't make up my mind as to how I should shape my destiny. Ultimately, I know that my mission in life is to alleviate Egypt of its plight and poverty. This is a grandiose goal, but I just pray that life will give me the opportunity to take a shot at it. I know that by continuing my studies in London, I can have a greater impact when it comes to fulfilling this mission, but I have come to question the very notion of going to London. When I witness poverty everywhere around me, I come to question what gives me the lofty opportunity of going to study in one of the world's most expensive cities. Maybe my reluctance to go ahead with the London offer is fear of failure... or may be its a genuine belief that I don't deserve such an opportunity when I see compatriots who can't make end's meet. Whatever feelings that may be stirring in my mind, I just pray the God will make clear what is the straight path for me....

Cairo Ramadan

2010-08-13T10:29:00.002-04:00

Finally, I'm back home. After staying in a ragged apartment in Charlottesville for a year, to staying in a luxurious loft in the heart of Istanbul's poshy Etiler, finally I find myself back in my quiet and tranquil home in Katamaya. What makes my return all the more precious is that I find myself here at the beginning of Ramadan, the gracious month in which an atmosphere of spirituality envelops the Muslim World, which Cairo could be considered as one of its capitals.

Although the fast is taking its toll on me, I am ready to hit the ground running this time around in Cairo. I'm ready to experience it all. I can't wait to stroll through the old quarters of Islamic Cairo, feast in the classical cafes of El-Hussain, and pray Taraweeh in some of Islam's oldest mosques.

Yesterday, subsequent to my arrival to Cairo, I had the opportunity to taste the modern scene of Cairo's Ramadan. My father and I attended a "Kheyma" (i.e. Tent) night at Arabella, an exclusive, high-end compound in New Cairo. It was interesting seeing the contemporary face of Egypt and how modern Egyptians spend their Ramadan. I found the festivities adequate to celebrate Ramadan, but was quite disappointed with the show-offy aura in the air; for some reason, the Arabella environment wasn't reminiscent of the pious and modest atmosphere that makes Cairo's Ramadan so special.

Tonight we'll be breaking our fast in Maadi with relatives. Ramadan is a time to get together with family, socialize, meditate, etc... but I want to use it as an opportunity to really experience Egypt. I already have a list of all the historical Islamic sites I intend to visit in Old Cairo. I know my visit this time around may be short-lived, so, as much as I want to take it slow, I feel like my time here is short and I'd like to make the most of it. In any case, I'll make sure post my coverage of Cairo during Ramadan during the couple of weeks I'll be here.

Bittersweet Feelings

2010-08-12T11:47:00.000-04:00

For some reason, whenever I depart from Istanbul, a profound feeling of melancholy overcomes me, but this time around, I feel prepared to say goodbye to this beloved city. My love for Istanbul is eternal. I consider myself blessed to have witnessed this place. I can attest that no other city gives me the same sense of serenity as Istanbul. I will miss the silhouette skyline of the city’s majestic minarets contrasting with the mellow orange aura of the setting sun. This was the last magical glimpse of Istanbul I experienced with Omar as we drove to Sultan Ahmet Mosque yesterday. Without me realizing the blessings He has bestowed me with, this summer has passed in the span of a heartbeat. I’ve deliberately, although subconsciously, kept myself busy this whole summer with graduate school applications, GMAT studying, reading, etc… to avoid facing the sadness that accompanies the thought of departing Istanbul for good…

At the same time, I find myself optimistic to be returning to Cairo. This time around, I will be a university graduate where a future of limitless possibilities awaits me. I know my time is short, but this time around I intend to get the ball rolling in terms of making sure that I set up the right conditions for my intended future. Networking is key at this phase. My absence from Egypt has almost made me a foreigner to my own motherland, but I am sure that a heavy dose of reality will wake me up. Call me an idealist, but I will not give up with my aspirations of impacting positive change in my country. I just pray that the right opportunities present themselves and I make the best use of them. Who knows what’s next. Work or study... but one thing I’m sure of is that, as a friend put it, my belief in God will make the future arrive as if it is a rosy breeze.

This may be as personal as I may get on my blog, but I guess I needed to pen my emotions of nostalgic goodbye to Istanbul and enthusiastic hello to Cairo…

The Ironies of Consumerism

2010-08-04T05:44:00.001-04:00

I think that many people have the meaning of life reversed. To live a meaningful life, one must find out what their purpose is and strive to succeed in fulfilling it. What better means of doing so than to create? Think about it, whatever you want in life… wouldn’t it be more fruitful to envision what it is and go about fulfilling it according to your specifications. And if whatever you create happens to be a success, that what greater pleasure can you derive than that that comes from sharing it with others?

Nowadays, people live under the illusion that by consuming they are in essence producing. For instance, take the example of fashion or art. Many who believe they are “artistic” reach that conclusion on the basis of how many galleries they visit, the kind of clothes they wear, etc… All of which is aimed at constructing a self-conscious illusion that they are “artistic” to themselves and to others, but at the end of the day, what art are they producing? It is similar to those striving to accumulate status symbols in an effort to convince themselves that they are something they’re really not. At the end of the day, consumerism doesn’t lead to much other than shallowness and emptiness.

I am convinced that only through creation and production do we really fulfill our predestined purpose. Production may come from the most trivial to the most significant aspects in life. Whether it’s a photograph that you take, a poem you write, a song you sing, lecture you deliver… any such production means that you’re living out your purpose. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-capitalist or anything of the sort. I believe in the mutual exchange of ideas and goods, but at the end of the day, I believe that one shouldn’t be at a trade deficit. Of course we need to consume in order to generate new ideas, but what really defines us is our creations.

There’s a quote by Gandhi that is something along the lines of: “Only through the service of others do you truly find yourself.” I wholeheartedly believe in that and I strive to fulfill it in whatever I do, even though I may fail short of complete success. I praise the industrious and entrepreneurial spirit in every individual. I commend those who unleash it, and I aspire to emulate them.

2010-07-04T03:36:00.003-04:00

I want to write. Actually, I want to write something epic... a book, an anthology of essays, my next magnum opus, but I'm lacking one thing: a topic.

I thought to myself that maybe if I start raining words, a river of creativity might just engulf the page with words with some substance. My problem is that my interests are eclectic and divergent. They say that writers are usually good at emulating what they read, but, in my case, I can't seem to find a consistent pattern in my readings. Whenever I plant myself at a bookstore, cafe, or even just my own room to pick up a book and read, I find that my thoughts are divergent and scattered.

At times, I want to change the world with my thoughts and writing, and at other times I just want to reassure myself that I'm on the straight path. I think what will come to be with this craving of mine is that one day, I will have a moment of revelation. I think that will be the day when I realize my purpose. Only then can I write something of true substance.

As of now, I feel equipped with the tools necessary to write, but I lack a sense of mission or direction.

Of this I am certain: whatever I end up writing about will deal primarily with the thoughts that preoccupy my mind all the time, namely God, Egypt, Fate, Future, Love, Dreams, Past, Knowledge, Power, Altruism, Literature, Life, etc...

I think this blog is an excellent representation of my intellectual development. For one thing, I know that every experience, every observation will tie into whatever I write. Just God has written my future, I know that everything I come across will serve a purpose... Whatever I end up writing will be the sum total of my life's experiences.

...in essence whatever I write will be a mirrored reflection of who I am.

خلفية النهضة العربية

2010-02-26T18:31:00.003-05:00

مقالة من مقالات كتاباتي هذا العام...

ركود الحالة العلمية والإجتماعية والسياسية في مصر والشام قبل القرن التاسع عشر

كانت النهضة العربية حركة فكرية وثقافية تستهدف إصلاح حال البلاد العربية المتأخر بالمقارنة إلى بلاد الغرب. تختلف أصول النهضة من وجهات نظر مؤرخين مختلفين. يقول الفرنسيون إن النهضة بدأت عندما احتل جيش نابليون مصر في عام ١٧٩٨، ولكن يختلف المؤرخون المصريون. يجادل المصريون بأن بداية تاريخهم الحديث عندما أصبح محمد علي حاكم مصر. بغض النظر عن الفترة التي بدأت فيها النهضة، ليس هناك شك بأن حال العرب قبل القرن التاسع عشر كان راكدا في جميع أبعاد العلوم والمجتمع. هذه النقطة الأخيرة هي أساس موضوع هذه المقالة.

أسباب ركود العرب قبل القرن التاسع عشر مختلفة:

أولا، تدخل العثمانيين في شئون العرب أثر على الحياة العلمية بشكل سلبي في مصر والشام. يكتب جمال الدين الشيال أن انتقال الخلافة الإسلامية إلى القسطنطينية سبب جمود الحركة العلمية في مصر والشام. بسبب موقعها كعاصمة الدولة العثمانية وعرش السلطان، اجتذبت القسطنطينية افضل علماء العالم الإسلامي. علاوة على ذلك، كانت التركية لغة التأليف في العلوم بدلا من العربية. إذن، أصبح ضياع المفكرين نتيجة هجرتهم إلي عاصمة الإمبراتورية العثمانية. بالإضافة إلى ذلك، إنقطاع الصلة بين العالم العربي وبين العالم الخارجي ساهم في ركود العرب.

ثانيا، وضع البلاد العربية الداخلي كان كذلك كئيبا. تميز حكم المماليك في مصر بإستغلال السلطة والمنافسات الحربية بين البكوات من إجل القوة والثروة. نتيجة هذه المنافسات غير شرعية كانت ظلم الشعب وحالة رعب في مصر. مصدر أخر للركود في العلوم داخل البلاد العربية هو الإهتمام البالغ بالعلوم الدينية والنقلية وعدم الإبتكار في العلوم العقلية والرياضية. في ذلك الوقت، كان جامع الأزهر أكبر معهد علمي في مصر. يعتمد الأزهر وجميع المدارس والمساجد الأخرة في مصر على تقنيات تعليم تقليدية. عندما استفهم الوالي العثماني أحمد باشا عن حالة العلم في مصر، فأجابه شيخ الأزهر بأن العلوم الرياضية تحتاج إلى "أدوات وشروط ولوازم وصناعات لا بد من الحصول عليها للتقدم في هذه العلوم." يدل غياب وسائل المعرفة عن هذه العلوم على حالة التخلف في مصر في ذلك الوقت.

إذن، ركود العالم العربي كان بسبب التدخل العثماني في شؤن العرب، والحكم الفاسد تحت سلطة المماليك، وعدم إهتمام نظام الدراسة التقليدي بتطوير المنهج لإدراج العلوم العقلية. إذن، ما هي الأشياء التي انجبت النهضة؟ من وجهة نظري، برغم أن الحملة الفرنسية كانت تستهدف مصالح نابليون الإمبريالية، فتحت الحملة عيون المصريين وجعلتهم يدركون أهمية التحديث. ربط مشروع الديوان العلماء الفرنسيين مع نظرائهم المصريين. يكتب سواعي أن نتيجة الديوان الإجابية هي إنها أعطت "العلماء في مصر ونظائرهم من الفرنسيين الفرصة لعلماء الشرق أن يعوا أمورا كثيرة كانت تدور آنذاك في الميادين العلمية في الدول الأوروبية المتقدمة." هذا الإتصال الحضاري جعل العلماء والمفكريين المصريين أن يفكرون كيف ممكن بناية مستقبل أفضل للشعوب العربية. إذن، من هذا المنظور، يمكن لنا أن نحدد أصول اليقظة العربية منذ التفاعل بين المصريين والفرنسيين حين احتل جيش نابليون مصر.

برغم إنشاء فكرة تحديث مصر والعالم العربي أثناء الإحتلال الفرنسي في مصر، بدأ تنفيذ هذه الفكرة تحت حكم محمد علي. كان محمد علي يريد أن يتنافس مع العثمانيين للسيطرة علي الأراضي الإسلامية. رؤية الحاكم الألباني كانت أن يقوي جيش مصر من أجل التعليم والتحديث والتصنيع. أدرك محمد علي أن قوة الغرب تأتي من إندماج العلوم والجيش. إذن، بعث محمد علي مجموعة من الطلاب المصريين إلى باريس للحصول على علوم لها علاقة بصناعة الاسلحة الحربية الحديذة. كان هدف محمد علي بناء جيش مصري حديث و قوي. شهد مشروع تحديث مصر أول مطبعة تطبع بالعربية وترجمة كتب من الفرنسية إلى العربية. علاوة على ذلك، أنشأ محمد علي كثيرا من الأكاديميات الحربية والبحرية. وبالإضافة إلى ذلك، شهدت مصر إصلاحات زراعية، وصناعية، وتعليمية، وطبية. برغم أن هدف محمد علي الأساسي كان تحسين الجيش المصري، ساعدت سياساته في حركة انفتاح مصر والنهضة العربية بشكل عام. إذن، يمكننا أن نستنتج بأن مصادر النهضة متنوعة وأن تأثيرها على الشعوب العربية كان إجابيا علي مستوايات مختلفة.

The Final Lap

2010-02-26T16:16:00.002-05:00

It's quite unbelievable that this is actually the final lap of my undergraduate career at UVa. I'm no longer anxious about what the future holds. What will come will come...All I have to do is throw my heart over the fence and the rest will follow.

I realize that I haven't written in a long time. Come to think of it, I haven't penned my thoughts since Guatemala. This semester has taken me by surprise. I thought this last semester would be one filled with leisure and bidding goodbye to my beloved Charlottesville. Surprisingly it has been quite the opposite. I have lofty goals for the outcome of my academics. I want to make sure I wrap things up on the best possible note. Not only has work taken the best of me, but it has totally engrossed me.

Considering that the courses I'm taking this semester are mainly those to satisfy my Middle Eastern studies major, I have been confronted with a plethora of ideas that have my entire existence in question. My identity, beliefs, thoughts, ideologies, pragmatism, etc... have all been put on the line. But I believe when you are pushed to the limit, to question what you hold truest to, only then can you firmly solidify your convictions. The more I learn and know, the more firmly rooted I find myself in what is true, universal, and timeless.

In any case, I don't wish to ramble on and on. I've just taken a break because I just finished my graduate school applications. Its been a long journey applying to different masters programs, but I've reached the point where I can no longer determine my fate. All I had to do was click the "submit" button on my application pages and the rest I leave to God.

Anyways, I've got plenty to work on today... but I'm glad I've had the chance to warm up my fingers for future entries that await to be written.

The Guatemalan Diaries Pt.2: First Impressions

2010-01-06T19:36:00.000-05:00

We arrived at La Aurora Airport around noon today. I was pleased to discover that the weather is mild and pleasant here. Away from the cold, everyone around here walks around in T-shirts like in Egypt. The scenery of this country seems beautiful, with a mountainous terrain circulating Guatemala City. Unfortunately, there is nothing in the city itself that’s very impressive. Overall, most of the districts are run-down and shabby. The city itself has nothing indigenous about it, with billboards displaying every major Western fast-food brand that could spring to mind. Globalization has left no trace of anything indigenous about Guatemala.

Our hostel is located in a heavily fortified and guarded compound. Apparently the rich in this country live a very comfortable life, while the rest of the population is just getting by, but the locals seem content with life and are friendly. The locals are separated between the Ladinos, who view themselves as more modern and Westernized citizens of Guatemala. On the other hand, the Mayan population seems much more vibrant in their traditional clothes. The only thing in the streets that seems distinctly Guatemalan is their colorful buses.

This must have been the first country was English is almost completely non-existent, which poses a problem considering that none of our group members speak Spanish. This led to a very interesting incident today. Our group of five was interested in visiting an arts and craft market, which we thought would be a traditional open fair bazaar. After asking around, we were told that there were several markets in Guatemala City. After we boarded a cab that took us 20 minutes away from our hostel, the cab dropped us off at a modern steel and glass building. We were sure that the driver had misunderstood us, but what actually happened was that the Guatemalans interpreted the world “market” for “mall.” This was a very shabby mall, worse than Cairo’s Tiba mall. We strolled around for a bit, but there was nothing outstanding.

The Guatemalans don’t seem to care that there are foreigners amongst us. Even though the locals are all very short and dark skinned, they are not surprised to see foreigners even though we hadn’t seen any other foreigners all day long. This is comforting considering I don’t like drawing attention as a foreigner.

Here I sit in the hostel amongst the team as we chat about random topics. I think I’m going to call it a day and hit the hay considering we have to be up by 6am tomorrow morning.

Adieu!

The Guatemalan Diaries Pt.1: Expectations

2010-01-06T19:34:00.000-05:00

It was Guatemala that Che Guevara chose:

“So as to perfect himself and accomplish what may be necessary in order to become a true revolutionary.”

I find myself sitting on my fourth consecutive flight, this time to Guatemala. Who would have ever thought I would end up in Guatemala? Well, I believe that my journey from Istanbul, through London, Washington D.C., and Atlanta is worth this trip to Guatemala. To be honest, I don’t know much about Guatemala other than my mission there. I am traveling with Team PURA (Partnership for University Research Abroad), a group of five students from diverse academic backgrounds on a service-based mission to devise and implement a water sanitation and distribution system in the Tzununa community on Lake Atitlan.

I have always wanted to join a project to serve those who are less fortunate than me, and this seemed like the ideal opportunity. I think my deep-rooted altruistic spirit stems from my teenage devotion to Che Guevara. I have to admit that I went a bit over the edge with my admiration for the guy. Quite frankly, I haven’t thought much about him since I turned twenty, but this trip to Guatemala brings back many memories about Guevara’s legacy.

I was deeply moved by the Motorcycle Diaries, Guevara’s personal account of how a roadtrip across Latin America transformed him from a doctor to a revolutionary who sought justice in the name of the poor. It was in Guatemala that Guevara realized the injustice of capitalist imperialism and how corporate interests toppled a democratically elected Guatemalan government of Jacobo Arbenz Guzman. Arbenz’s land reform policies aimed at nationalizing the holdings of the United Fruit Company to redistribute it to the landless peasants, similar to Nasser’s nationalizations policies.

It was through Guatemala that Guevara became acquainted with the Cuban revolutionary cause and where he acquired his famous nickname: “Che”. Unpleased with the nationalization of its territories, the United Fruit Company with the aid of the CIA intervened, overthrew Abenz and installed dictator Carlos Castillo Armas.

Guevara’s feelings towards the coup were that “The last Latin American revolutionary democracy-that of Jacobo Arbenz-failed as a result of the cold premeditated aggression carried out by the U.S.A.” It was this event that triggered Che’s conviction that Marxism and armed struggle were the path to justice.

Now I have long abandoned Guevara’s approach to justice and have adopted a pacifist approach, but I believe my visit to Guatemala, and especially my work in the field of development, will shed some light on the dire state that led to the revolutionary transformation of his personality. I will take this trip as an opportunity to learn about this ancient Mayan civilizations, its locals, and hopefully I will be able to serve others, even if my effort has a miniscule impact.

Writing to you gives me company

2009-12-19T13:26:00.001-05:00

Lately, I haven't been as enthusiastic about blogging simply because I've had several storms of doubts about my writing. I started to ask myself, "Why am I writing?" Is this writing getting me anywhere, or is it simply an luxurious pastime. I guess it must have been another gust of melancholy that had overcame me. As a result, I withdrew into my shell and began to write for myself again, i.e. only my moleskin was allowed to access my inner most thoughts.

After exams, I would pack Naguib Mahfouz's Palace Walk, bike to Para Coffee (a cafe on The Corner) and sit by the window to read and write. The window shed sun rays that consoled me with warmth. In the midst of the cafe's commotion, I would sit at peace with myself. That is when introspection would take over me. I would leave this world to visit the world of my mind. What an intriguing world that is!

My imagination would span everything from films, books, music, photographs, conversations, emotions, and dreams. This was a time for my pen to roam freely across the page. No rules, no stress, no expectation...nothing but the freewill.

But I needed inspiration to write so freely. The cafe's environment would profoundly affect my mood. Without the cafe, the free writer in me ceased to exist.

So here I set on my desk, finding no inspiration in my apartment. In the cafe, I wasn't lonely. I shared my environment with others; the espresso machine, the cute waitress, the whistle of the kettle, the ironic photograph of a smiling Guatemalan coffee-grower, my good-cupa-tea, and of course my moleskin and pen. They proved to be good company. But here I sit at home with nothing but emptiness everywhere.

This is why I reach out to you, dear reader. Whoever you may be and wherever you are in this planet. Writing to you gives me company.

Snow

2009-12-19T13:03:00.016-05:00

I've realized that staying in one place for 24 hours makes you think a lot. My thoughts aren't innovative, ingenious, or grandiose. Rather, I began to think about the simple things, like washing the dishes, boiling some fava beans and eggs for breakfast, pouring the milk and realizing that its the same degree of white as the snow. When there's no rush, one tends to think about the simple things in life. These are the thoughts of someone stranded on an island.

Rather, I find myself stranded on a snowy island. Snow has engulfed my apartment to the extent that I can't open my front door. I had only heard of such snow storms up north in Montreal and Michigan, but never could have fathomed that they would take place down south in Cville. The silence and emptiness caused by the storm is almost scary. Its as if life has ended

I know that back home in Egypt, this storm would be unbelievable, so I think its worth sharing this experience.

Today, I was supposed to fly out of Cville to the sunny Egypt. Instead, after waking up to an unusual chill, I was shocked to look out my window and see that the snow had climbed quarter way up my window.

Snow quarter way up my bedroom window

At this point, I thought I must be dreaming, but when I went to look out the door, I couldn't open the door. I was trapped inside my house.

I don't think writing about it does much justice. Pictures really are worth a thousand words in this case, so enjoy:

View from my kitchen window

View from my doorstep

I'm the type of person who likes to be on-the-run and always outdoors, so this snow is a bit frustrating, but I think it is also an opportunity. I've never really spent a whole day in this apartment since I moved in, so this may be an excellent opportunity catch up on some reading and watch a film. Come to think of it, I might learn a thing or two about spending time alone. But first, back to packing for Egypt.

نعم للبرادعي

2009-12-04T12:32:00.003-05:00

اليوم قرأت مقالة ثورية على موقع جريدة الصري اليوم عن إقتراحات الدكتور محمد البرادعي لإصلاح و تتوير النظام الديمقراطي في مصر خلال الإنتخبات الرئاسة في ٢٠١١. كل مصري يتمنى أن هذه الإنتخبات ستجعل بداية جديده في تريخ مصر. عندما قرأت عن ترشيح البرادعي، فوجئت أن شخص على مستواه سيشارك في السياسة المصرية. أعتقد أنه يريد إصلاح بلده مثل كل مواطن آخر خاصة بأنه مثقف معروف دوليا.

اقتراحات البرادعي مهمه جدا لآى انخابات ديمقراطي، و هي:

١. تشكيل لجنة مستقلة لتنظيم الانتخبات

٢. إشراف قضائي كامل

٣. رقابة دولية

٤. وضع دستور جديد

اول تلاث نقات مهمة لضمان شفافية الانتخابات. النقطة الرابعة ثورية من وجهة نظري لأن تغير الدستور سيغير الجو السياسي في مصر تماما. اتمنى أن أول تغير في الدستور سيكون حدود على مدة بقاء الرئس فى السلطة و تنفيذ تغيره بعد هذه المدة. هذه من أهم قرارات جورج واشنطن عندما استقال من الرياسة الأمريكية. اظن أن البرادعي ينسخ الدستور الأمريكي و الغربي عندما يقترح: "توازن دقيق ورقابة متبادلة بين السلطات التشريعية والقضائية والتنفيذية، بحيث لا تطغى إحداها على الأخرى.."

و من جانب دور الدين في الدستور، فكرة "الدين للة و الوطن للشعب" قرار مهم. مشكلة الحكومات الدينية و العلمانية مثل إران و تركية إنهم متطرفان و هذا تطرف يخنق الديمقراطية.

الناس في بلادي: عالمية الأدب و التجربة الإنسانية

2009-12-03T16:51:00.004-05:00

في صف الشعر العربي، قرأت قصيدة مثيرة عن الشعب المصري، وأردت أن أنشرها كتدوين في هذه "البلوج." عبارات القصيدة قوية و تجعل الإنسان أن يفكر عن غاية الحياة. في نهاية الحية، سنرجع إلى الطين الذي خلقنا اللة منه. إذن, يعطينا الشاعر صلاح عبد الصبور صورة من الوقع عندما يكتب "الناس في بلادي." هنا، سوف أطهر لكم قصيدة عبد الصبور ثم تعليقي عن القصيدة

الناس فى بلادى ـــ صلاح عبد الصبور

الناس فى بلادى جارحون كالصقور

غناؤهم كرجفة الشتاء فى ذؤابة الشجر

وضخكهم يئز كاللهيب فى الحطب

خطاهمو تريد أن تسوخ فى التراب

ويقتلون، يسرقون، يشربون، يجشأون

لكنهم بشر

وطيبون حين يملكون قبضتى نقود

ومؤمنون بالقدر

وعند باب قريتى يجلس عمى "مصطفى"

وهو يحب المصطفى

وهو يقضّى ساعة بين الأصيل والمساء

وحوله الرجال واجمون

يحكى لهم حكاية.. تجربة الحياة

حكاية تثير فى النفوس لوعة العدم

وتجعل الرجال ينشجون

ويطرقون

يحدقون فى السكون

فى لجة الرعب العميق، والفراغ، والسكون

" ما غاية الإنسان من أتعابه، ما غاية الحياة؟

يا أيها الإله!!

الشمس مجتلاك ، والهلاك مفرق الجبين

وهذه الجبال الراسيات عرشك المكين

وأنت نافذ القضاء أيها الإله

بنى فلان ، واعتلى ، وشيد القلاع

وأربعون غرفة قد ملئت بالذهب اللماع

وفى مساء واهن الأصداء جاءه عزرئيل

يحمل بين إصبعيه دفترا صعير

ومد عزرئيل عصاه

بسر حرفى "كن" ، بسر لفظ "كان"

وفى الجحيم دُحرجت روح فلان

(أيها الإله ...

كم أنت قاس ٍِ موحش أيها الإله).

بالأمس زرت قريتى ، قد مات عمى مصطفى

ووسدوه فى التراب

لم يبتن القلاع (كان كوخه من اللبن)

وسار خلف نعشه القديم

من يملكون مثله جلباب كتان قديم

لم يذكروا الإله أو عزريل أو حروف (كان)

فالعام عام جوع

وعند باب القبرقام صاحبى خليل

حفيد عمى مصطفى

وحين مد للسماء زنده المفتول

ماجت على عينيه نظرة احتقار

فالعام عام جوع

تعليقي عن القصيدة

من أهم أسباب نجاح أي كاتب، إستخدام مواضيع و رموز الإنسانية تجعل إسلوب الكاتب عالمي. على سبيل المثال، نجيب محفوظ من أشهر الكتاب العرب حول العالم، وخصوصا في الأوساط الأدبية الغربية، لأن تطبق مواضيع قصصه على "التجربه الإنسانية." يكتب محفوظ عن مشاعر إنسانية عامة يستطيع كل إنسان من كل جنسية أن يشعر بها. يكتب صلاح عبد الصبور قصيدة "الناس في بلادي" بنفس الأسلوب. التشابه بين محفوظ وعبد الصبور والكتاب العظماء هو أنهم يستخدمون العالمية كتقنية أدبية في كتابتهم. في هذا التحليل، سأكتب عن نجاح عبد الصبور أن ينقل لنا قصة القروي مصطفى ليعبر عن مشاعر إنسانية عالمية.

باختصار، التجربة الإنسانية تبدأ بولادة الإنسان في هذه الدنيا. في وسط رحلة الحياة، يصبح الإنسان متحير عن وجوده. في هذه المرحلة في الحياة، يبحث الإنسان عن أجوبة أسرار العالم من خلال الدين والفلسفة. في نهاية الرحلة، يموت كل إنسان. يكتب عبد الصبور عن دورية الحياة بترتيب زمني عندما يكتب القصيدة.

في أول جزء من القصيدة، يكتب الشاعر عن الشعب المصري بشكل عام. يصف الشعب بصفات مثل "جارحون وطيبون." علاوة على ذلك، سلوكهم تجعلهم أن "يقتلون، يسرقون، يشربون، يجشأون" مثل البشر في أي ركن من أركان العالم. يستخدم الكاتب تقنية التشبيه عندما يصف "غناؤهم كرجفة الشتاء في ذؤابة الشجر" وكيف "ضحكهم يئز كاللهيب في الحطب." هذه الأوصاف لم تشير للشعب المصري فقط بل للبشر حول العالم كذلك. إذن الكاتب يكتب ببراعة عن الحالة الإنسانية.

بقية القصيدة تتحدث عن شخص خيالي اسمه مصطفي. يعطي عبد الصبور هذا الاسم لبطل القصيدة من أجل إيقاع القصيدة لأن "عند باب قريتي يجلس عمي مصطفى وهو يحب المصطفى." علاوة على ذلك، الاسم مصطفى له دلالة دينية. مثل النبي، يقود مصطفى مجموعة من القرويين عندما يناقشون مواضيع مختلفه عن تجربة الحياة. تأثير المناقشة يجعل بكاء الرجال. يصف الشاعر فكرة الموت بمشاعر مثل: "رعب عميق، والفراغ، والسكون." هذه مشاعر تدل على رد فعل كل إنسان عندما يفكر بالموت. إذن، تصل الشخصيات إلى أهم سؤال في تاريخ الفلسفه وهو "ما غاية الحياة؟"

يستخدم عبد الصبور آيات دينية مختلفة في القصيدة. عندما يستخدم رموز الشمس والهلال والجبال، يشير عبد الصبور إلى رموز إسلامية تدل على وجود وعظمة الله. لذلك، القدرية موضوع مهم للبشر. يعطي مصطفى نموذج عن كيف ثروة الإنسان لا تفيدة في الأخرة. يقول مصطفى، "فلان، واعتلى، وشيد القلاع وأربعون غرفة قد ملئت بالذهب اللماع...ومد عزريل عصاه بسر حرفى <<كن>> بسر لفظ <<كان>>." هذه إشارة إلى كيف الأخرة مرحلة مختلفة تماما عن هذة الدنيا. يعبر مصطفى عن رعبه عندما يقول، "يا أيها الإله كم أنت قاس موحش يا أيها الإله!"

تنتهي القصيدة بموت مصطفى. عندما يضع موت البطل في نهاية القصيدة، يعمم الشاعر كيف كل رحلة حياة تنتهي بنفس الصيغة. عندما يموت محبوب في أي مكان، تشعر عائلته "بالإحتقار." الموت يجعل الناس يشكون في رحمة إلههم. يعطي الكاتب مثالا من ذلك عندما يصف مشاعر خليل حفيد مصطفى "حين مد للسماء زنده المفتول ماجت على عينيه نظرة أحتقار." إذن، تظهر لنا القصيدة مشاعر البشر في المراحل المختلفة في حياة الإنسان. أتفق مع معظم وجهات نظر عبد الصبور، ولكن أعتقد أن الإيمان والتسليم للقدر يجعل الإنسان يقبل كل شيء من الله، حتى الموت.

بإخلاص،

مصطفى

Reflecting upon my Systems Engineering experience at UVa

2009-12-01T20:21:00.002-05:00

I write this entry as I approach the brink of concluding my academic career at the University of Virginia. This is indeed an opportunity for introspection and reflection with regards to the past four years and the future that awaits me after graduation. I believe this sort of reflection is beneficial so as to recalibrate my current strategy and plan ahead for the future. In retrospect, I must admit that my journey at UVa has been rewarding and self-fulfilling. I recall visiting Princeton University’s campus during my early formative high school years. The idea of living a college town with a historical legacy behind it appealed to me since. I worked ardently during my two years in the International Baccalaureate program make this dream crystallize.

Ironically, during my university application process, UVa had never crossed my mind. I applied to over twenty universities in the United Kingdom, Hong Kong, the United States, and Canada. Not one of my applications had been addressed to the UVa. Oddly enough, I sent my last college application to UVa on its official application deadline. Even stranger was the fact that my first acceptance letter arrived from UVa. When it came to making the final decision, I chose UVa over Hong Kong University at the last minute. What really motivated my decision were the American education system’s flexibility, interdisciplinary nature, and superiority in science and engineering.

Looking back, UVa has equipped me with a strong technical background coupled with linguistic, leadership, and interpersonal skills. My immersion into UVa’ rigorous engineering program taught me to think in a systematic and analytical way and the discipline and work ethic required to succeed in school, work, and life. Specifically, the Systems Engineering curriculum transformed the way I go about solving problems in any and every situation. I have learned to think holistically about any situation and to determine the different political, economic, and cultural forces involved. In every aspect of my life, I have learned to untangle complex situations, work with time and cost efficiency, and evaluate different alternatives to select the ideal scenario. The curriculum’s collaborative environment has allowed me to learn from my colleagues’ skill sets.

I would have to say that the most valuable experience with Systems Engineering hitherto has been my fourth year capstone project. This experience has allowed me to apply Systems Engineering’s concepts and methodologies in a real world setting that truly interests me. I have always been interested in improving the lives of communities in developing countries. The opportunity has allowed me to lead a group of students from diverse backgrounds and work with real stakeholders to address the water sanitation needs of an indigenous community on Guatemala’s Lake Atitlan.

Working on an engineering service project in the developing world has taught me how to provide technical solutions that are culturally sensitive to the host environment. This experience has taught me everything from the design of point-of-use water filters to how to actively engage our clients in a participatory approach. Most importantly, I learned the importance of sustainability of any engineering project to ensure its long-term success.

Where do I intend to take my Systems Engineering background? Ultimately, I aspire to succeed. This is a very vague aspiration, but it is the concept of embarking on any task and accomplishing it with distinction. I pray that my academic background has equipped me with the determination, courage, and discipline to excel in life and serve others.

Another Mystical Night With Z

2009-11-30T22:01:00.001-05:00

In my moleskin planner, the 30^thof November stands out from all the other dates in its bright highlighter-fluorescent. I’ve been anxiously anticipating this day. Fortunately, I have had a lot to think about since to get it off my mind. Whenever a milestone appears in my life, my imagination tends to get the best of me, and I begin base my every move on how I am to face what I believe to be a turning point of my life. Tonight is a case in point.

Earlier this month, the University of Virginia’s secret Z Society clandestinely invited me to a recognition dinner. I did not know what to make of invitation. Was it an induction ceremony, would the guardians of UVa’s most revered society finally unveil their society to those invited, what had I done to earn their recognition? These were but a few of the issues running through my mind. I began to consider every single feat I may have possible accomplished in my life. Sure, I give everything I do my best shot, but I am not an overachiever. Could the Z Society read my intentions? Do they really understand my altruistic motives behind every miniscule task I pursue in my life?

Speculations aside, I decided to attend this recognition dinner with a clear mind and sincere heart. After classes today, I hastily biked home through Jefferson Park Avenue’s damp streets. I had less than half an hour to prepare for what my mind kept telling me was a defining moment in my life. Feeling a bit drowsy, I brewed myself some yerbe mate to arouse my senses a bit. I quickly shaved, splashed on some tantalizing after-shave, and oiled my hair with Mediterranean olive oil. The only other occasion when I’d be putting this much meticulous effort in my appearance would be my wedding night! I then put on some slacks, an oxford shirt, and the beige corduroy blazer I hadn’t sported in some time. A second later, I was out the door with Mozart playing on my iPod.

The venue was Michael’s Bistro so I decided to take the route that would take me through the Lawn. As I passed by the fences of the Lawn’s hidden gardens, I reminisced at how rewarding me experience at UVa has been so far. I’m going to miss dear old Uva.

Not surprisingly, when I reached Michael’s Bistro’s entrance, there was a salient sign with the words: Michael’s Bistro will be closed tonight from 6 o’clock to 8 o’clock. This was a sign that tonight was the night. As I walked up the staircase, I could already sense the mystic aura that surrounded this night. When I reached the top, I could see two tables lined parallel to one another with candle light flickering on each of them. I was one of the last guests to arrive and I had to peer over my fellow UVa students’ shoulders to find my assigned seat. At my seat, an envelop with the name “Mr. Allam” in elegant cursive awaited me. After taking my corner seat, I introduced myself and exchanged my greetings with Laura and Rachel, the two who sat by my side; they were truly endearing! We had a lively conversation the whole dinner; more about that later.

Without any signal, we all instinctively ripped open our respective envelopes. As I read the words on the paper before my eyes, I was moved like never before. Never have I been so appreciated and recognized for my efforts in my life. The words were almost divine. It had been as if God had written them. How could someone know exactly what had been behind every one of my intentions all along? Before attending this dinner, I wondered to myself, what could I possibly be recognized for? This letter recognized me for everything I had sweat over during my years at UVa, and there is nothing more rewarding than recognition by the secret guardians of UVa. The words of wisdom that the letter leaves behind for me will inspire me for the rest of my life. As much as I would love to disclose the words of this letter, I shall abstain this time around. Rather these are words worth treasuring in one’s heart…

Laura snapped me out of my dignifying trance by mentioning, “This is a letter worth framing.” I think down the road, this will be a letter that I shall treasure even more than my UVa diploma, since this letter speaks to my personal achievements, which I value more than titles, statuses, or awards.

In this lifetime, I don’t want to do good to be famous. I’d rather be anonymous.

After savoring our letters for a couple of minutes, an English professor sitting among us stood up to make an announcement. He was speaking on behalf of the “mystical” Z Society. The eloquence of his speech was flared the night with even more charm. He mentioned that service come in various shades, but its ultimate impact is one and the same: good in the name of honor and serving one’s fellow human. At this point, it all clicked! All of the words inscribed on UVa’s various buildings finally made sense to me. Every time I had passed the various epigraphs in Jefferson’s Academic Village, I had absorbed his words and implemented them. The virtues I had learned from Mr. Jefferson are honor, integrity, freedom, devotion, i.e. to name but a few. One of the sayings of Jefferson that have stuck with me to understand my purpose at UVa have been:

This institution will be based on the illimitable freedom of the human mind. For here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead, nor tolerate any error so long as reason is left free to combat it.”

This and many other Jefferson sayings have come to give me purpose in life. After clinching the speech with “…Mystically, Z” the English professor congratulated us earning a seat among him at this spectacular dinner.

I believe this recognition is just a taste of “what goes around comes around.” I believe in the end of time, call it the “hereafter” if you wish, everyone will earn the reward or punishment they deserve. This dinner was just a sample of it. It reminds me of the Quran’s words:

“On that Day will men proceed in companies sorted out, to be shown the Deeds they had done. Then shall anyone who has done an atom’s weight of good, see it! And anyone who has done an atom’s weight of evil, shall see it.”-Sura 99

I love it when I get epiphanies like this and everything in life intertwines together so naturally. For everyone else sitting on the table, we all seemed truly endeared by this moment in our UVa career. Most of us were third or fourth years. I could seem to relate to everyone of them on some level. Laura had a global experience like me. Rachel was a writer, reader, and had gone through the International Baccalaureate program like I did. There was another girl who had lived in the International Residential College like I did. With each one of these comrades, I believe I shared something. If it weren’t our past experiences, then I am certain it will be our future success and goodwill.

I ordered duck glazed dipped in pomegranate sauce over basmati rice and asparagus. It was truly delicious to say the least. Over our meal, we discussed a plethora of issues, but the one worth noting is the one I shared with Laura. She revealed that she is a Religious Studies major, so I decided to test my knowledge of religion on her. I thought I understood Christianity and Judaism before talking to her, but I found out that what I knew was very elementary. My perception was that both religions were mere diversions from Islam, but essentially all three religions belong to the same family. Laura revealed to me that despite the fact that we recognize the same prophets, our approaches to following their messages are very different. After exchanging our sides of the story, I realized that despite their same root, the three monotheistic religions branched out very differently. To my regret, the discussion was cut short. Dinner was over at this point, but I promised Laura to continue this discussion over a cup of coffee.

Overall, this deserves the speculation I previously had for it: a life-changing event. If there is one memory I am to cherish from my experiences from UVa, it is to be this night. And if there are words that will inspire me along the way, it will be those of the Z Society.

Beautifying the Mosque: A Jewish-Muslim Partnership

2009-11-21T21:27:00.003-05:00

"Do you love your creator? Love your fellow-beings first."-Prophet Muhammad

Over this year, I've had several revelations that have led me to conclude that if one has an outlook based on love, peace, and empathy, he or she can make this world a better place. It is for this reason, I have become more active when it comes to pro-peace initiatives. Fortunately I have had the opportunity to push forth this agenda as a member of the Middle Eastern Leadership Council's (MELC) executive board. This is a very young organization whose aim is to better serve the Middle Eastern community at the University of Virginia and in Charlottesville. It is sad that many of its members have given up hope on this organization and have become inactive. I have seen potential and opportunity in this organization from the outset.

Every Friday, I have organized MELC Fridays, which is a lounge on the Lawn in front of the Rotunda. In the setting of Middle Eastern music, students interested in the Middle East gather over dishes of hummus, dates, and tea to discuss everything from Middle Eastern politics to culture, society, and personal life. In my opinion this project has been a great success.

I sought the opportunity to tackle pertinent issues through MELC, such as Arab/Muslim-Jewish dialogue. My opinion has been that we students should always strive to set an example for the world. We should be idealist and progressive since we are in an academic setting. I remember specifically saying in a joint meeting between MELC and the Jewish Leadership Council (JLC) something to the effect of:

"We shouldn't be thinking like the political idiots running our countries! We should base our relationship based on mutual respect. Hate will get us no where. Rather, if we work together to serve our respective constituents, we will learn more about each other and dispel any misconceptions."

During this MELC-JLC meeting I suggested a service project based on cleaning up the local Charlottesville mosque. Unfortunately the mosque here is in a very run-down condition. This was an ideal opportunity for us to work on a project that would serve the local community. Surprisingly, the JLC were the ones who really pushed for this project. I volunteered to manage this project.

After receiving an invitation form the mosque officials, I assessed the mosque's requirements and prepared of plan of action for us to execute as a part of the project. I was surprised to see how organized the JLC was in prepare its members and equipment for this event. On the day of the event, they were the first ones to be at the mosque. Even when it came to cleaning up the mosque, the were the most dedicated to the cause. I was impressed by the preparation, dedication, discipline, and work ethic of the JLC.

When discussing some issues with them, I discovered that the JLC has about 300 members at UVA. Apparently, Hillel International, which is an foundation that supports Jewish students worldwide provides them with services to be more effective on campuses across the world. After doing some research, I discovered that Hillel's mission statement is to "enrich the lives of Jewish undergraduate and graduate students so that they may enrich the Jewish people and the world." By providing them with the tools and means to become more efficient, Hillel is investing the Jewish generations of the future. Every university I have visited to date in the U.S. has its own building part of the university campus. I have come to revere the Jews for their discipline and organization.

Today, I finally saw my project materialize. After two hours of work on the mosque, we left it more beautiful and elegant than when we began. My father has always taught me to leave behind a place cleaner and more beautiful than when I go to it. We did every meticulous task, from raking the leaves to cleaning the gutters. I am grateful I had the opportunity to do good especially before Eid El Adha. Even though our task was merely cleaning, it was such an ecstatic joy to clean the a house of God. Muslim and Jew alike did their work with devotion. I believe it is at moments like these that we put our differences aside and submit ourselves as slaves to God.

After the clean-up, Alla (a friend of mine and the president of the Muslim Student Association) and I gave the JLC members a tour of the mosque. Its a small place, but we showed them the Qurans, the prayer lines, the Mihrab, and some Islamic artwork. Their curiosity was boundless and they asked us questions about how Muslims pray. It was such a gratifying experience sharing my religion with others. I believe that it is the duty of every Muslim to be an ambassador of his faith to others, even if there may be some friction between them.

At the end of the venture, both MELC and JLC thanked me for organizing this event. I refused any recognition because if it weren't for them, it wouldn't have been a fun experience and we wouldn't have gotten any work done. I have to say that this must have been one of the most gratifying experiences I have had at UVa.

Lost In The Wilderness: Ragged Mountain

2009-11-21T20:36:00.003-05:00

Charlottesville's weather had been muggy all week. Surprisingly, today was a divine blessing: sunny, colorful, and cheerful. What an ideal day to spend outdoors. Tim, my dutch friend, and I discovered heaven on earth just a couple of minutes driving distance from where we live. This paradise is the Ragged Mountain Natural Area. Tim and I share several interests ranging from literature to sports, but nature is a prominent one.

Tim revealed this magnificent forest to me a couple of weekends ago. Ever since, I've been dying to go back. Every time we go on a hike there, we discuss everything and anything about life, philosophy, world affairs... you name it! As we walk through oak, pine, and maple trees, we are awed by the charm of the autumn milieu. The multitude of colors makes walking through this forest almost a surreal experience.

The forest with its multitude of colored leaves

Our mission on these hikes it to reach the lake. This is where the lake's real enchantment reveals itself. Since we usually come towards sunset, the glistering reflection of the sun on the water lends an almost divine atmosphere to the place. Looking at the lake at this time of the day is as if looking at the most beautiful starry constellation God has to offer.

The sun's reflection off of the lake

There is always such a serenity to this place. This is what I've always been craving to discover in Charlottesville. One's soul feels refreshed by sitting among the trees. The scenery is one the calms the senses.

This time around, Tim and I decided to get some reading done. As we drove along the winding road to the parking lot, we listened to some heavenly Mozart music and looked forward for a pleasant day. We never would have imagined what turn of events were waiting around the corner for us.

We reached the park around 3:30pm. Equipped with our books and camera, we set off along the trail we knew best. We followed this path up and down several hills through the mushy ground filled with dry leaves and residue of this week's rain. Upon reaching the lake, we decided to continue our exploration expedition. Why settle for beauty when you can have more? This was the notion we had behind continuing further into the wilderness. What we didn't take into account was that after sunset, there would be a very slim chance for us to escape the grasp of the wilderness.

Deviating from the trail, we reached a huge dam. The curiosity in us pushed us along. We decided to cross the dam to reach the other side of the lake. Ahead of us lay a huge mountain. By our calculations, we could cross this mountain to circumvent the lake. What we hadn't noticed was that we were racing against time. The clock was ticking, and it would soon be sundown.

A photo of Tim on the dam

A photo of myself on the dam

We reached the summit of this second mountain around 4:30pm. We had reason to worry at this point since the sun would set in half an hour. We decided to turn back. The joy of a pleasant stroll turned into anxiety. Fasting, my body was almost depleted of energy at this time. Luckily, Tim had some chocolate to rejuvenate my body. As we rushed back to climb the second mountain, we realized that we had lost our trail. We began to panic as the sun was showing its last rays. If we lost the sun, we would have no way of getting out of here. The sun was our only hope to finding the right path.

We climbed the summit of the first mountain, which was at 980 feet. We needed the right path to descend. Every time we found a trail, it would lead us to a dead end. The belief that God would guide me back home put me at ease. I have to admit that Tim was panicking a bit. If worst came to worst, we would spend the night here until sunrise next morning. After running around at sunset, Tim and I stopped. Instead we would use our animal instinct to re-trace our footsteps. One clue led to another. Suddenly, I found a smooth surface. This must be the trail, and indeed it was!

Just as the sun was saying its last goodbyes, we used the remaining light to run down the right path. We ended up in the marshes at the foot of the hill. This wasn't quite where we'd parked the car, but at least we were on the right side of the mountain. We made it out alive! What a nightmare we'd been through! I believe my deep conviction that God was overseeing our endeavor to escape had become a reality. We hopped in the car with the rush of adrenaline still in our system. We were saved in the nick of time! This was just another instance that miracles do happen. This is another one of my Charlottesville adventures that I wouldn't let slip away without a blog post.

Ragged Mountain's Enchanting Lake

A Snapshot of Friday Night in Charlottesville

2009-11-21T00:39:00.010-05:00

I want to write, but I can't seem to think of a topic decent enough worth your or my time. I could possibly talk about my week... but that would be too personal now, wouldn't it? Well how an epic film I just finished watching... That sounds a lot more like it!

Its Friday night. I had the option of partying, but that hobby seems to have lost its flare. Instead, I hopped on my bike, paddled quickly to the Downtown. I was hoping of spending a couple of minutes in the Mudhouse before it shutdown. To my dismay, I missed out on a much-craved-for oatmeal cookie and gun powder tea. I decided to walk.

Walking down the main avenue of the Downtown never seems to amaze! So, in the blistering cold, with my headphones on, I strode along puffing clouds of vapor out from the cold. I passed by all the shut down ma' and pa' shops. I was definitely an outlier at this hour (it was 11:30pm). I was there for the leisure of a walk to clear my mind, contemplate emotions and events, and to have some time to myself. Everyone else was either drunk or "lost". At this hour, the Downtown had lost its aestheticism and beauty. It was dark and shady. I decided to depart. To return in the morning when it was cheerful and sunny.

I biked just as quickly home and made it back before midnight. Since I wasn't that drowsy, I decided to put on "Les Amants Reguliers," an indie French movie I checked out from Clemons yesterday. I actually checked it out randomly. I wanted to watch an intersection of an Indie movie and one that was foreign, so made the cut.

After injecting it into the DVD, I was amazed by how nostaglic I'd gotten. The protagonist reminded me of myself a couple of years back. He plays the role of romantic revolutionary during France's near-revolution in the 1960s. He falls in love and strives for a Marxist revolution. Ultimately, he discovers that these ambitions are mere delusions.

More than anything, this film is a piece of art. With beautiful urban scenes in Paris, 1960s vogue lifestyles, and the humanistic behaviors of artists, poets, and loves, this is indeed a masterpiece. The movie, shot 2005, is in black and white to simulate the milieu of the 1960s. Every scene, lull, and dialogue in the movie is a artwork in and of itself. The soundtrack, cinematography, and photography of the movie lets you live this decade I once aspired to live and emulate.

This is a film where the viewer is not merely fed the events and emotions. Instead of witnessing what the characters feel, you feel it with them, and at times, for them. The despair of failed ambitions is a common theme I feel I can relate to. Also, the dichotomy between idealism and realism is a case in point of the human experience. Anyways, I shall not give the movie away. In fact, I can't since the movie is an abstract painting; a wide range of inferences can be drawn.

Football: The New Form of Nationalism

2009-11-16T13:11:00.004-05:00

I have given up my football fanaticism a long time ago. There was a phase in my life in which all that preoccupied my mind was football. I played it, dreamt about it, and followed it wholeheartedly. As I grew, I gradually let this obsession go, just like a child who gives up playing with toys. Lately, I have begun how to realize how a silly hobby such as soccer could have a much deeper meaning for others. Moreover, I am shocked by how ugly a simple sport can become.

I remember being disconcerted after we lost to Algeria in the African Cup of Nations in 2004. I brushed off my disappointment after a day or two. There will be another day when we will win against them, I thought to myself. Of course, supporting the national team is a form of nationalism, but it should never breed hatred. This is what has caught my attention in the past couple of days.

Football has become the new form of nationalist expression worldwide. Tim, a dutch friend of mine, once mentioned that football in Europe has become a substitute the wars that festered all over Europe for much of history until the end of World War II. The Europeans realized that instead of fighting wars on the batter field, they would fight them on the football fields. Yet, this modern type of fighting is marked by sportsmanship, passion, and peace.

Apparently, the Arabs have taken this notion of fighting on the football field a bit to literally. Despite the cultural, religious, and linguistic ties that relate Egyptians to Algerians, the two nations have turned a friendly sport into a bitter conflict. What scares me is how this rivalry has turned into an all-out conflict between the two peoples. Egyptians stone the Algerian team's bus in Cairo, and the Algerians have ransacked Egyptian business in Algeria. This conflict seems contagious with he media and general populations of the respective nations joining in on the ugly frenzy. Whatever happened to our pan-Arabist dreams? How could an Egyptian hate an Algerian (and vice versa) over a football game? In my eyes, this is absolute ignorance.

There is no denying that sports are the new form of rallying people around a national cause. Take the Olympics for example. Competing for that gold medal is like an arms race in and of itself. Just last year, China proved its rising super power status through its unprecedented achievement gathering the most gold medals... Wasn't this how the U.S. and the Soviet Union fought out the Cold War? Peacefully... in the sports arenas of the Olympics...

Instead of using football and sports as a rallying point, we Arabs have used it as a tool to divide us as is the case with Egypt and Algeria. In any case, the two teams play this Wednesday. I pledge my allegiance to Egypt, but I wish Algeria the best of luck and may the best team win. In my opinion, that is what nationalism is all about...the collectivist welfare of the nation. What the Egypt and Algeria need to realize that they are one nation and that the outcome of Wednesday's game will be a win for the Arab nation in either case!

Recognition by the Z Society

2009-11-12T13:58:00.005-05:00

The sign of the Z Society on the steps of the Rotunda

I am aware that I am violating the laws of secrecy by writing and publishing this entry, but there are some secrets too tempting to reveal, and this is one of them… According to a series of “mystical” events, I have been honorably recognized with the highest of honors at the University of Virginia.

In retrospect, I remember my first day at the University of Virginia as some distant memory… I recall standing on the Lawn facing the Rotunda listening attentively to President Casteen’s speech. To say the least, I was awed by the scholarly atmosphere. I was embarking on a journey in which I would have to follow in the footsteps of some great figures that either produced, or were produced by, UVa. Thomas Jefferson, Woodrow Wilson, Edgar Allen Poe, Georgia O’Keeffe are to name a few.

As I was daydreaming in the beauty of the Lawn’s architecture, the president paused and made an announcement that one of UVa’s secret societies, the 7 society, donated $7,777 to the Class of 2010. That’s all he said about the matter.

Ever since then, I’d been truly interested in UVa’s secret societies. Their clandestine identity stimulates my curiosity even more since they mark their presence all over campus. Its almost as if they’re ghosts with eyes and ears all over the university who recognize even the most miniscule acts of courage, goodwill, and service.

When one thinks of secret college societies, one thinks of Yale’s Skulls and Bones. Initially, I had a very negative perception of them since they produced the likes of President Bush. Also, deep down inside, I feel that they play a clandestine role in possessing and exploiting power to serve their interests. At UVa, this doesn’t seem to be the case.

Well… let me get to the story of how my path crossed with those UVa’s premier collegiate secret society, the Z society…

On November 11, 2009, as I was sitting through another one of my senior thesis project meetings, I was routinely checking my email out of boredom. I then stumbled upon an email sent by the Z society. I knew who they were…all of the sudden, I skipped a heart beat. I knew an email from them was meant something…

Upon opening it, it read the following:

Dear Mr. Allam,

Before 11:37 PM tomorrow, please proceed to the Alderman Library Stacks. There, find a book with the call number PQ2605.A3734 A19. Look inside the book.

We look forward to hearing back from you.

Mystically,

I instantly lost all my concentration of what was going on during the meeting. Actually, I completely lost focus throughout the rest of the day. All that was running through my mind were the events that had happened over the past couple of months that could have led to them recognizing me.

Sure, I have been more outspoken and active at UVa. Academically, I do not let a lecture go by without having some input. Also, the diversity of my studies may lead to my recognition as a student who is purely in pursuit of knowledge.

Could it be that they have seen me roaming around the Art Museum, the Rotunda, the Lawn meticulously photographing and appreciating every detail of this university… Can they read my inner thoughts about how I have come to appreciate UVa.

It could very well be my idealist initiative to bridge the gaps between the Middle Eastern and Jewish communities on grounds. I have endeavored to foster a relationship between these two entities repeatedly as a member of the Middle Eastern Leadership Council.

All day long, I kept thinking of what it could have been that led to my recognition by UVA’s most prestigious secret society.

Before going on my mission to see what awaited me in a book in Alderman Library, I did some research on the Z Society.

According to my research, the Z Society was founded in 1892 and its purpose is to exemplify the spirit of the society and uphold the ideals of the university. The Z Society encourages and recognizes excellence through honorary dinners and awards.

What grasped my attention is their slogan that:

"The definition of best student is intentionally left ambiguous because each of us pursues greatness in very different ways; however, the best student is an individual who has pursued academic greatness with fervent ardor and keen insight while never forgetting the importance of those priorities aside from school."

My story with the Z Society goes on. Later that night, I proceeded to Alderman Library in the rain. Upon reaching the library, I went to the front desk where a cute receptionist awaited me. At this point, I felt that the whole university was conspiring in order to lead me to this book in the library. I asked her where I can find the book by showing her the call number. She gave me directions to navigate me through the archives of Alderman Library. Apparently she wasn’t “in” on it. I proceeded to the stacks, and when I reached the right section, the book wasn’t there. I was extremely disappointed.

I was determined to find that book, so I looked all over the place. I skimmed several dozen shelves before giving up. As I was about to quit and leave, I saw a librarian pass by. I nonchalantly asked him if he could lend a hand in my scavenger hunt without disclosing the secrecy of my operations. He then pointed me to a different section. Apparently this section wasn’t where the book was supposed to be placed. He looked for a while there, but couldn’t find it. As I was browsing the area, I found the book. Again, my heart skipped a beat. I didn’t want to let him know that I found it, so I suddenly said “Never mind! I’ll just look for another book. Thank you for your help!” He replied by saying, “Are you sure you don’t want to reserve the book you were looking for?” “Nope! Thanks for your time; bye bye!” I replied as I walked away. I wanted to get him away from the book! After he left the section, I went back and picked out the book.

I was breathless as I opened the book. Inside was a small envelope with the name, Mr. Allam written elegantly on it in cursive. I quickly opened the letter to find the following note inside:

The Z Society

Humbly requests the honor of

your presence at an

informal recognition dinner for students and faculty.

Monday, November 30^th, 2009

6 o’clock to 8 o’clock PM

Michael’s Bistro

3711

I was honored to say the least. I cannot pinpoint the source of my recognition, but I have endeavored to be the best person I can over the past semester and I am glad someone has taken notice, even it that entity is the anonymous and secret Z Society. I will be accepting their invitation where I hope to see other accomplished members of the University.

My morale is high! My endeavors at UVa have paid off. This is another piece of encouragement that I believe God has placed on my path to success. This boost will push me to continue to my journey to achieve greatness.

MBA Discussion Panel: Follow Your Passion!

2009-11-09T20:52:00.002-05:00

I just returned from an MBA discussion panel featuring the admissions officers from the top business schools in America. You name it: Harvard, Columbia, Stanford, MIT, UPenn... they were all there. This session was sort of a sneak peek into how the leaders of this world are selected.

There is no doubt that the MBA is the benchmark for grooming those who achieve success, think big, and impact the world in a significant way. I was curious to understand the inner workings of these programs. I was curious to find out the secrets of success. Apparently the success equation is simple: follow your passion!

I will make this entry sweet and short as I don't have much time for writing tonight. So what I will recount will be the words of wisdom from some of the most accomplished people I have met in a very long time. When I meet people of such stature, I believe that it is God that speaks from their mouths to convey his words or reassurance that I am on the right path and that I should continue endeavoring to succeed.

In the process of paving your path for the future, don't lose confidence and don't succumb to anxiety. Live your life as you love it and don't live in the shadow of the expectations of others. The representative from Stanford gave an example. Imagine working the standard 9 to 5 job and not loving it to the fullest and working with someone who does love it to the fullest, who do you think will achieve greater results. Its a given.

Make decisions that make you happy, that make you a better citizen, and not because you believe that it will look good on your resume or CV. If you do follow the resume-seeker role, you'll end up being like every other candidate. Seriously just do what you're passionate about and the pieces of success will fall into their right pieces.

Also, since we are young, take as many risks as you can. If you don't fail, it means that you're not trying hard enough.

At this phase in our life, all we need to do is lay down all the cards of our many aspects of life and do some introspection. Sit down and figure who you are, what you want to achieve, why you want to achieve it. What legacy do you want to leave behind. Know thyself and erase any doubts under faith. Faith in God, in yourself, and in the fact that everything will work out at the end.

Some quotes left behind were:
"Education is the great equalizer of humankind." This is very true since it is intellectual capital that equalizes one's opportunities in the workplace.

Also, Roosevelt once said: "You must do that thing that you think you cannot do!" Hence always strive above and beyond the mere requirements and squeeze your potential to the last drop of sweat!

During the Q&A session, I asked to question:
"How can we ensure that we don't fall into the trap of being a jack of all traits but master of none with an MBA?"
and
"Sure, an MBA allows us to manage people and resources, but how can we go about doing that without a purely technocratic approach."

These two questions really cornered the panelists, and it was interesting seeing how they addressed the answers to the questions directly to me and not to anyone of the hundred or so other people attending the discussion. I was very humbled when the Stanford representative, in a private discussion, told me: "You know, you have a really great aura around you, which attracts people to you." I don't like flattery, but I was truly amazed how my simple comments backed with confidence and courage led everyone to remember my name and take me seriously.

I enjoyed the personal dialogue I exchanged with the other candidates. At first I was hesitant to approach them as I didn't have a clear-cut set of questions, but at the end I realized that they're only human, made of flesh and bone like I am and that I have nothing to fear from them. It was rewarding and fruitful talking to them one on one. If there's anything I learned its to have confidence in one's self and take bold risks.

Also, go out and take initiatives by leading people without seeking to have it on your resume. You don't have to be a leader to lead.

I know that this isn't a structured entry; its merely my stream of consciousness from tonight, but I wanted to record it before it fades away. I hope it will give me confidence in the future and might give my dear reader some motivation in a time of need.

كيف تعرفت إلى شعر نزار قباني

2009-11-07T14:08:00.009-05:00

هذه المرة، سأعرض كتاباتي التحليلية عن شعر الشاعر الجبار نزار قباني. درست شعر قباني بالتفصيل هنا في يجامعة فرجنية، و لكن سمعت عن شعره الثوري لأول مرة عندما زرت والدي في الصين. فوجئت عندما عرفت أن خدم قباني في نفس السفارة ألذي والدي كان يقيدها. أصبح قباني نائب السفير في الصين في زمن الوحده بين مصر وسوريا. حين زرت السفارة التي خدم قباني فيها، شعرت بوجوده عندما لقد وجدت أحد من دواوين شعره على رف من رفوف مكتبة والدي. أتذكر بالتحديد عندما فتح والدي دوان قباني و قال لي أن كاتب هذا الشعر يرمز مشاعر جيله الثوري في الستينات. عندما تعرفت عن شعر قباني كتن أتبع أفقار و إيديولوجيات ماركس و لينين و تشي غيفارا. أعجبتني فكرت وجود شاعر ثوري مثلهم في الثقافة العربية فبدأت قراءة شعر قباني.

يعجبني أسلوب شعر قباني البسيط و المثير الذي يعبر و ينقد الحال الواقعي في العالم العربي. إذن لقد قررت أن أنشر كتاباتي التي تعبر عن رأيي و تعليقي نحو شعر قباني. في سلسلة كتاباتي تالية سأعرض قصائد قباني، ثم سأقوم بتحليل كل قصيدة من وجهة نظري.

أتمنى أن تستمتعوا بقرأة أفقاري.

إلى أطفال الحجارة

بهروا الدنيا..

وما في يدهم إلا الحجاره..

وأضاؤوا كالقناديلِ، وجاؤوا كالبشاره

قاوموا.. وانفجروا.. واستشهدوا..

وبقينا دبباً قطبيةً

صُفِّحت أجسادُها ضدَّ الحراره..

قاتَلوا عنّا إلى أن قُتلوا..

وجلسنا في مقاهينا.. كبصَّاق المحارة

واحدٌ يبحثُ منّا عن تجارة..

واحدٌ.. يطلبُ ملياراً جديداً..

وزواجاً رابعاً..

ونهوداً صقلتهنَّ الحضارة..

واحدٌ.. يبحثُ في لندنَ عن قصرٍ منيفٍ

واحدٌ.. يعملُ سمسارَ سلاح..

واحدٌ.. يطلبُ في الباراتِ ثاره..

واحدٌ.. بيحثُ عن عرشٍ وجيشٍ وإمارة..

آهِ.. يا جيلَ الخياناتِ..

ويا جيلَ العمولات..

ويا جيلَ النفاياتِ

ويا جيلَ الدعارة..

سوفَ يجتاحُكَ –مهما أبطأَ التاريخُ-

أطفالُ الحجاره..

تحليلي عن قصيدة أطفال الحجارة

النضال الفلسطيني له أهمية أساسية في الشعر والنثر العربي. منذ إحتلال فلسطين، عبر الكتاب كثير عن الشعور المؤلمة التي تحملتها الشعوب العربية. في قصيدة "إلى أطفال الحجارة"، يسخر قباني من الأجيال الماضية وكيف فشلوا أن يخدموا وطنهم. يشير قباني إلى أطفال الحجارة كمثال إيجابي. يرمز هؤلاء الأطفال إلى النقاء والسلامة. ولكن من ناحية أخرى، يتهم قباني الرجال العرب بأنهم سبب فشل وهزيمة الوطن العربي. يقسم قباني القصيدة إلى ثلاثة أقسام. أولا، يسخر قباني من سلبية الرجال العرب. ثانيا، يشيد الكاتب شجاعة أطفال الحجارة وكيف هم الأمل الوحيد لانتصار الفلسطينيين علي العدوان الإسرائيلي. ثالثا يناقش الشاعر الدروس التي يجب علينا أن نتعلمها من أطفال الحجارة.

عندما ينتقد قباني الرجال العرب، يصور الأجيال الماضية بصور فاضحة، ويصفهم كجيل الخيانات، وجيل العمولات، وجيل النفايات، وجيل الدعارة. يحرج الشاعر الرجال العرب بسبب أنانيتهم وكيف يريدون أن يخدموا مصالهم فقط، ولم يهتمون بمصالح الوطن. إذن، ما هو الحل لفشل الرجال العرب؟ يشير قباني إلي بطولة أطفال الحجارة كنموذج للوطن العربي. يصف قباني قدرة أطفال الحجارة بأن"ينفجروا ويستشهدوا" في سبيل الوطن.

إذن النقيض الشنيع بين أطفال الحجارة والرجال العرب يعرض لنا علاقة جدلية. برغم أن الكبار يعلمون الصغار عادة في الواقع، يقترح قباني أن يعلم الأطفال الأجيال الماضية. يكتب قبانى "علمونا بعض ما عندكم." هنا يشير الكاتب لضعف الرجال العرب وشجاعة أطفال فلسطين. يريد الكاتب أن يتذكر أطفال غزة بقية الشعب العربي كيف يحاربون للحرية. رسالة قباني هي أن ليس هناك أمل في الأجيال الماضية وأن النهضة الفلسطينية لتأمين الوطن ستكون من خلال أطفال الحجارة.

قصيدة الديك

في حارتنا
ديك سادي سفاح .
ينتف ريش دجاج الحارة ،
كل صباح .
ينقرهن .
يطاردهن .
يضاجعهن .
ويهجرهن .
ولا يتذكر أسماء الصيصان!!

2
في حارتنا ..
ديك يصرخ عند الفجر
كشمشون الجبار .
يطلق لحيته الحمراء
ويقمعنا ليلاًَ ونهاراً .
يخطب فينا ..
ينشد فينا ..
يزني فينا ..
فهو الواحد . وهو الخالد
وهو المقتدر الجبار .

3
في حارتنا ..
ثمة ديك عدواني ، فاشيستي ،
نازي الأفكار .
سرق السلطة بالدبابة ..
ألقى القبض على الحرية والأحرار .
ألغى وطناً .
ألغى شعباً .
ألغى لغة .
ألغى أحداث التاريخ ..
وألغى ميلاد الأطفال ..
و ألغى أسماء الأزهاء ..

في حارتنا ..
ديك يلبس في العيد القومي
لباس الجنرالات ..
يأكل جنساً ..
يشرب جنساً ..
يسكر جنساً..
يركب سفناًَ من أجساد
يهزم جيشاً من حلمات !!..

5
في حارتنا ..
ديك من أصل عربي
فتح الكون بآلاف الزوجات !!

6
في حارتنا ...
ثمة ديك أمي
يرأس إحدى الميليشيات ..
لم يتعلم ..
إلا الغزو .. و إلا الفتك ..
و إلا زرع حشيش الكيف ..
وتزوير العملات .
كان يبيع ثياب أبيه ..
ويرهن خاتمه الزوجي ..
ويسرق حتى أسنان الأموات ..

7
في حارتنا ..
ديك . كل مواهبه
أن يطلق نار مسدسه الحربي
على رأس الكلمات ..

8
في حارتنا ..
ديك عصبي مجنون .
يخطب يوماً كالحجاج ..
ويمشي زهواً كالمأمون ..
ويصرخ من مئذنة الجامع :
(( يا سبحاني .. يا سبحاني ..))
((فأنا الدولة ، والقانون ))!!.

9
كيف سيأتي الغيث إلينا ؟
كيف سينمو القمح ؟
وكيف يفيض علينا الخير ، وتغمرنا البركه ؟
هذا وطن لا يحكمه الله ..
ولكن .. تحكمه الديكه !!

10
في بلدتنا ..
يذهب ديك .. يأتي ديك ..
والطغيان هو الطغيان .
يسقط حكم لينيني ..
يهجم حكم أمريكي ..
والمسحوق هو الإنسان ..

11
حين يمر الديك بسوق القرية
مزهواً ، منفوش الريش ..
وعلى كتفيه تضيء نياشين التحرير
يصرخ كل دجاج القرية في إعجاب :
(( يا سيدنا الديك )) .
(( يا مولانا الديك )) .
(( يا جنرال الجنس .. ويا فحل الميدان .. )) .
(( أنت حبيب ملايين النسوان )) .
(( هل تحتاج إلى جارية ؟ )) .
(( هل تحتاج إلى خادمة ؟ )).
(( هل تحتاج إلى تدليلك ؟ )).

12
حين الحاكم سمع القصة ..
أصدر أمراً للسياف بذبح الديك .
قال بصوت الغاضب :
(( كيف تجرأ ديك من أولاد الحارة ))
(( أن ينتزع السلطة مني .. ))
(( كيف تجرأ هذا الديك )) ؟؟
(( وأنا الواحد دون شريك ))!!.

تحليلي عن قصيدة الديك

كتبت قصيدة "الديك" الساخرة على يد الشاعر الجبار نزار قباني لتنقد السلطات العربية الفاشلة . يصور قباني الطغاة العرب بصور قبيحة. على وجه التحديد، يتجسد الديك صورة الحاكم المهين. يقارن كاتب القصيدة معظم أفعال الديك المبتذلة بالإسلوب الإستغلالي الذي يعامل الزعيم العربي شعبه به. في هذا التحليل سأكتب ملخصا لقصيدة "الديك". ثم سأعبر عن رأيي في الإسلوب الشعري الذي يستخدمه قباني ليعرض لنا الزعماء العرب. على وجه التحديد، سأوافق مع قباني على معظم الصفات التي يعطيها للحكام العرب. في النهاية، سأعلق على الإسلوب الشعري الذي يستخدمة الكاتب في القصيدة.

يتناول الشاعر الجمهور العربي عندما يكتب "في حارتنا". إذن، يشير الكاتب إلى الوضع السياسي اليائس في العالم العربي. يستخدم قباني صور قبيحة مثل "ينقرهن، يطاردهن، يضاجعهن، ويهجرهن" ليصف معاملة الديك (أو الزعيم) نحو الشعب. علاوة على ذلك، عندما يكتب "ولا يتذكر أسماء الصيصان"، يقصد الكاتب أن الشعب ليس له قيمة من وجهة نظر الزعيم. نقطة ثانية مهمة هي معاملة الزعماء العرب كما لو إنهم آلهة. صفات مثل "الواحد، الخالد، المقتدر، والجبار" تشير إلى صفات الله. أيضا في الجزء الحادية عشر، نرى كيف تعامل الشعوب العربية قادتهم بطريقة ملكية. يكتب قباني، "يا سيدنا الديك"، "يا مولانا الديك". هذه السخرية تدل علي كيف "سرق الحاكم السلطة بالدبابة وألقى القبض على الحرية والأحرار". تعيش الشعوب العربية في حالة رعب لأن "الديك" الذي يحكمهم "عدواني، فاشيستي، نازي الأفكار."

في هذه الفقرة من التحليل سأعطي تعليقي على القصيدة. أنا موافق مع قباني على كثير من الصفات السلبية التي يصور الزعماء العرب بها، ولكن أنا لا أتفق بإسلوبة الازدرائي التى يصف به "الديك". على وجه التحديد، لم يعجبني كيف يندمج قباني السخرية السيساسية بالسخرية الشخصية. عندما ينتقد قباني الزعماء العرب، لماذا يجب عليه أن يناقش مواضيع مبتذلة مثل الجنس، خاصة أن هذا الموضوع محظور في المجتمع العربي؟ أظن أن قباني يشير إلى الزعماء العرب في القصيدة عندما يكتب، "ديك من أصل عربي." من الواضح، الكاتب يشير إلى الزعيم العراقي السابق صدام حسين. كدليل على ذلك، يقارن الشاعر الديك بالحجاج والمأمون، والأثنين من القادة العراقية السابقة. أعجبتني صفات عدم حرية التعبير، عندما يكتب الكاتب "يطلق نار مسدسه على رأس الكلمات،" لأنها تعكس الواقع في الوطن العربي. كنت أتمنى أن يفصل قباني إلى حد أكبر عن حقوق الإنسان لأنه يكتب فقط، "المسحوق هو الإنسان".

الشيء الغامض في القصيدة هو هوية "الحاكم" الذى "أصدر أمرا للسياف بذبح الديك." هل يشير قباني إلى أمريكا كالحاكم؟ ربما، لأن في الواقع، الأميركيون هم الذين أمروا بإعدام صدام. إذا كان هذا هو الحال، إذن شعر قباني خالد. بشكل عام، هذه قصيدة عظيمة لأنها تصور الوضع السياسي في العالم العربي تحت حجاب قصة الديك مثل أسطورة جورج أورويل العالمية "أنيمال فارم" (Animal Farm).

قصيدة الم
سقطتْ آخرُ جدرانِ الحياءْ
وفرحنا.. ورقصنا..
وتباركنا بتوقيعِ سلامِ الجبناءْ
لم يعد يرعبنا شيءٌ..
ولا يخجلنا شيءٌ
فقد يبستْ فينا عروقُ الكبرياءْ...

سقطتْ.. للمرةِ الخمسينِ عذريّتنا..
دونَ أن نهتزَّ.. أو نصرخَ..
أو يرعبنا مرأى الدماءْ..
ودخلنا في زمانِ الهرولهْ..
ووقفنا بالطوابيرِ، كأغنامٍ أمامَ المقصلهْ
وركضنا.. ولهثنا
وتسابقنا لتقبيلِ حذاءِ القتلهْ..

جوَّعوا أطفالنا خمسينَ عاماً
ورمَوا في آخرِ الصومِ إلينا..
بصلهْ...

سقطتْ غرناطةٌ
للمرّةِ الخمسينَ – من أيدي العربْ.
سقطَ التاريخُ من أيدي العربْ.
سقطتْ أعمدةُ الروحِ، وأفخاذُ القبيلهْ.
سقطتْ كلُّ مواويلِ البطولهْ.
سقطتْ إشبيليهْ..
سقطتْ أنطاكيهْ..
سقطتْ حطّينُ من غيرِ قتالٍ..
سقطتْ عموريَهْ..
سقطتْ مريمُ في أيدي الميليشياتِ
فما من رجلٍ ينقذُ الرمزَ السماويَّ
ولا ثمَّ رجولهْ..

سقطتْ آخرُ محظيّاتنا
في يدِ الرومِ، فعنْ ماذا ندافع؟
لم يعدْ في قصرِنا جاريةٌ واحدةٌ
تصنعُ القهوةَ.. والجنسَ..
فعن ماذا ندافعْ؟؟

لم يعدْ في يدنا أندلسٌ واحدةٌ نملكها..
سرقوا الأبوابَ، والحيطانَ، والزوجاتِ، والأولادَ،
والزيتونَ، والزيتَ، وأحجارَ الشوارعْ.
سرقوا عيسى بنَ مريمْ
وهوَ ما زالَ رضيعاً..
سرقوا ذاكرةَ الليمون..
والمشمشِ.. والنعناعِ منّا..
وقناديلَ الجوامعْ

تركوا علبةَ سردينٍ بأيدينا
تسمّى "غزّة"
عظمةً يابسةً تُدعى "أريحا"
فندقاً يدعى فلسطينَ..
بلا سقفٍ ولا أعمدةٍ..
تركونا جسداً دونَ عظامٍ
ويداً دونَ أصابعْ...

بعدَ هذا الغزلِ السريِّ في أوسلو
خرجنا عاقرينْ..
وهبونا وطناً أصغرَ من حبّةِ قمحٍ..
وطناً نبلعهُ من دون ماءٍ
كحبوبِ الأسبرينْ!!

لم يعدْ ثمةَ أطلالٌ لكي نبكي عليها.
كيفَ تبكي أمةٌ
سرقوا منها المدامعْ؟

بعدَ خمسينَ سنهْ..
نجلسُ الآنَ على الأرضِ الخرابْ..
ما لنا مأوى
كآلافِ الكلابْ!!

بعدَ خمسينَ سنهْ
ما وجدنا وطناً نسكنهُ إلا السرابْ..
ليسَ صُلحاً، ذلكَ الصلحُ الذي أُدخلَ كالخنجرِ فينا..
إنهُ فعلُ اغتصابْ!!..

ما تفيدُ الهرولهْ؟
ما تفيدُ الهرولهْ؟
عندما يبقى ضميرُ الشعبِ حياً
كفتيلِ القنبلهْ..
لن تساوي كلُّ توقيعاتِ أوسلو..
خردلهْ!!..

كم حلمنا بسلامٍ أخضرٍ..
وهلالٍ أبيضٍ..
وببحرٍ أزرقَ.. وقلوعٍ مرسلهْ..
ووجدنا فجأةً أنفسنا.. في مزبلهْ!!

من تُرى يسألهم عن سلامِ الجبناءْ؟
لا سلامِ الأقوياءِ القادرينْ.
من تُرى يسألهم عن سلامِ البيعِ بالتقسيطِ..؟
والتأجيرِ بالتقسيطِ.. والصفقاتِ..
والتجّارِ والمستثمرينْ؟
وتُرى يسألهم عن سلامِ الميتينْ؟
أسكتوا الشارعَ.. واغتالوا جميعَ الأسئلهْ..
وجميعَ السائلينْ...

... وتزوّجنا بلا حبٍّ..
من الأنثى التي ذاتَ يومٍ أكلتْ أولادنا..
مضغتْ أكبادنا..
وأخذناها إلى شهرِ العسلْ..
وسكِرنا ورقصنا..
واستعَدنا كلَّ ما نحفظُ من شعرِ الغزلْ..
ثمَّ أنجبنا، لسوءِ الحظِّ، أولاداً معاقينَ
لهم شكلُ الضفادعْ..
وتشرّدنا على أرصفةِ الحزنِ،
فلا من بلدٍ نحضنهُ..
أو من ولدْ!!

لم يكُن في العرسِ رقصٌ عربيٌّ
أو طعامٌ عربيٌّ
أو غناءٌ عربيٌّ
أو حياءٌ عربيٌّ
فلقد غابَ عن الزفّةِ أولادُ البلدْ..

كانَ نصفُ المهرِ بالدولارِ..
كانَ الخاتمُ الماسيُّ بالدولارِ..
كانتْ أجرةُ المأذونِ بالدولارِ..
والكعكةُ كانتْ هبةً من أمريكا..
وغطاءُ العرسِ، والأزهارُ، والشمعُ،
وموسيقى المارينزْ..
كلُّها قد صنعتْ في أمريكا!!

وانتهى العرسُ..
ولم تحضرْ فلسطينُ الفرحْ.
بلْ رأت صورتها مبثوثةً عبرَ كلِّ الأقنيهْ..
ورأتْ دمعتها تعبرُ أمواجَ المحيطْ..
نحوَ شيكاغو.. وجيرسي.. وميامي..
وهيَ مثلَ الطائرِ المذبوحِ تصرخْ:
ليسَ هذا العرسُ عرسي..
ليسَ هذا الثوبُ ثوبي..
ليسَ هذا العارُ عاري..
أبداً.. يا أمريكا..
أبداً.. يا أمريكا..
أبداً.. يا أمريكا..
تحليلي عن قصيدة المهرولون

يستغرق نزار قباني في الذكريات الحزينة عن اضمحلال الحضارة العربية على مر الزمن. إذن، يقارن الشاعر إنجازات العرب في العصر الذهبي مع فشلهم في القرون الحديثه. يلوم الكاتب "المهرولون" بسبب مأساة العرب. كالعاده، يكتب قباني بإسلوبه الساخر عندما يحكي عن فشل القيادة العربية وكيف قبلت أشياء تافهة في مقابل أرض فلسطين وحرية الشعوب العربية. سياق القصيدة عن السلام الظالم بين فلسطين وإسرائيل ولكن يشير الكاتب إلى أحداث تاريخية أخرى ليوضح للقارئ كيف فشل العرب. في هذا التحليل، سأكتب عن المواضيع والتقنيات الأدبية التي يستخدمها الكاتب ليصور الوضع اليائس في العالم العربي وعلاقاته السياسة مع أمريكا وإسرائيل.

عندمى يشير إلى الماضي، يسخر قباني من العرب الذين هرولوا لتوقيع إتفاقات أوسلو مع الإسرائيليين. يصف توقيع السلام بين الجانبين "كسلام الجبناء". علاوة على ذلك، يسخر الشاعر من رد فعل العرب للهزيمة ضد إسرائيل عندما يكتب إننا "فرحنا ورقصنا." إذن، أصبح العرب مشلولين للإغتصاب الإسرائيلي. كدليل عن هذا الإغتصاب، يكتب الشاعر:"سقطت للمرة الخمسين عذريتنا دون أن نهتز أو نصرخ." يشير قباني لخمسين سنة ليتذكر النكبة الفلسطينية. والآن أصبحنا عبيدا للعدو لأننا "تسابقنا لتقبيل حذاء القتلة." إذن، خان العرب نجاح العرب القدماء.

يقارن قباني إنجازات الرعب في الماضي لفشل العرب الأن. يكتب "سقطت غرناطة وإشبيلية وأنطاكية وعمورية" من أيدي العرب. هذه المدن ترمز إلى مجد العرب الماضي. يلوم الكاتب جبن الرجال العرب عندما يسأل "فما من رجل ينقذ الرمز السماوي، ولا ثم رجولة." هذه نفس الفكرة في قصيدة "إلى أطفال الحجارة" عندما ينتقد قباني الرجال العرب لعدم شجاعتهم. يشير الكاتب مباشرة لرموز في الثقافة العربية ليعرض كيف فشل العرب. المرأة في الثقافة العربية شيء مهم جدا؛ إذن، عندما يكتب "لم يعد في قصرنا جارية واحدة تصنع القهوة والجنس فعن ماذا ندافع"، يشير قباني لسقوط شرف العرب لأنهم فشلوا أن يدافعوا عن نسائهم وعن أراضيهم.

ينهي قباني القصيدة بتعبير عن معارضة فلسطين ضد الجواز الغير شرعي بينها وبين إسرائيل. يصف إتفاقات أوسلو "كزواج بلا حب." على وجه التحديد، تزوج العرب عدوهم الذي حتى الآن يقتل العرب في فلسطين. عندما يكتب "ثم أنجبنا، لسوء الحظ، أولادا معاقين لهم شكل الضفادع،" يقصد الشاعر بأن السلام بين العرب والإسرائيلين شاذ وغير صحي. سبب هذا السلام الشاذ هو غياب الشعب العربي من إجراءات السلام: "لم يكن في العرس رقص عربي أو طعام عربي أو غناء عربي أو حياء عربي فلقد غاب من الزفة أولاد البلد." غياب الشعب الفلسطيني يدل على عدم الديمقراطية عند الشعوب العربية. في النهاية يشبه الكاتب فلسطين بالطائر المذبوح.

من وجهة نظري، قباني دائما ينتقد العرب ولم يشاهد إنجازاتهم في القرون الحديثة. لماذا لم يثني إنجازات العرب في القرن الماضي؟ خلال القرن الحادي وعشرين، ثار معظم الدول العربية ضد الإستعمار الغربي. من الناحية الإقتصادية، يوجد إنشاء الصناعة على مستوى حديث في مجالات مختلفة في الدول العربية. نعم، فشل العرب في بحثهم عن حل للقضية الفلسطينية ولكن حتى الآن، يقاوم الفلسطينيون للدفاع عن أراضيهم وحقوقهم. إذن، ينجح الشاعر في تعبيره عن الحال الصعب في العالم العربي. علاوة على ذلك، عدم الديمقراطية والفساد في النظام السياسي في العالم العربي أساس فشل العرب. أختم التحليل بقول أن قباني من أحسن الشعراء في العالم العربي الذي يعبر نيابة عن الشعب الفلسطيني والعربي.

An Extra Hour…

2009-11-01T13:51:00.004-05:00

Imagine that every morning you woke up, you were granted a whole extra hour…what would you do with it? Apparently I wasn’t aware that daylight savings was taking place today, so I woke up an extra hour early. Usually, I would look back and regret not having rested in bed an extra hour, especially since it was raining cats and dogs outside. Instead, today I was grateful for that extra hour. Well, I didn’t know about it until I was actually outside. As usual, I had to rush showering, combing, brushing my teeth, praying, preparing my books, and getting dressed. No bike today because of the rain.

My first stop was Alderman Library, so I had to walk through the unpleasant cold rain. It was soggy and I happened to stain my white shoes in mud and the fallen autumn leaves. The gray of the atmosphere really contrasted with the multi-colored orange, red, and yellow leaves of the season. I finally got to Alderman and realized that it was locked. “They must be kidding!” I thought to myself. I had to return an overdue book. Besides, I had four other classmates nagging on me to return it so they could get a chance to read it. I looked at my Swatch and realized that it was 10am; yes so they should be opened.

I then walk over the Clemons Library where some townies are waiting outside. This one was closed too. They then notified me that we had to turn the clock back. I completely forgot about that considering that I’d already done so in Egypt during Ramadan when we had our own day light saving.

Wow…so I have a whole extra hour to myself before having to return my book and go Dar Al Huda Sunday school to give my weekly class. First thing on my mind was breakfast, so I strode to the Corner where I slipped into cozy Bodo’s Bagels. There, smooth jazz music filled the air. Surprisingly, the students were a minority at this hour. It was the old townies that filled the place. I got my usual for breakfast: whole-wheat bagel, eggs, feta cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes; cinnamon raise with walnut and raisin cream cheese; and orange juice.

I devoured the meal in no time. I then started day dreaming for a bit by looking at the painting on the walls of Bodo’s and wondered what the story behind the character in each painting was. It was really surreal because it almost felt as if they were in the room with us. At least they seemed more interesting than the customers here. They were probably more interesting than me just because they’d had an enigmatic expression that was frozen forever.

I then wondered, “How I should spend the last half hour of my extra hour?” The answer was obvious: I’ll write about my extra hour. Of course, I’ll write! That’s all I find myself wanting to do nowadays. I want to write about anything and everything, so why not write about “an hour.” Writing has become an obsession. Whenever I’m studying, I find myself jotting notes irrelevant to what I’m studying. These notes include all the topics I’d want to write about. Some notes are even very ambitions, such as potential ideas for writing a book or a research thesis for a PhD. I’m just wish that I could drop everything I’m doing whenever I get a great idea and let it take over me, so I could just write about it. All I want to do is write, write, and write!

Anyways, I’ll have to start going. I’ve got to return that book and get going to Sunday school I’ll have to tell you all about that in some other entry….

The Farmer’s Market

2009-10-31T12:46:00.004-04:00

This time I’m reporting from another new discovery here in Charlottesville, the Farmer’s Market. I had some early bird friends always urge me to tag along, but I was always reluctant to wake up at 8am on a Saturday morning. Well, I did it this time around.

What really got me out of bed this time around was the notion that I would have spent four years here at UVa without visiting the Farmer’s Market. There are many Charlottesvillian traditions that I have missed out on, but I wouldn’t let this one go by without me paying it due attention. Besides, rumor had it that this would be the last Farmer’s Market of the year.

To get me out of bed, I connected my iPod to some lounge music to get me in the mood for a new day. Finally, I threw the cover to the side and jumped out of bed: enough laziness! I searched through the pile of clothes for a shirt and decent pair or jeans that weren’t to crumple up. I really need to do my laundry sometime soon. Check my three pockets: keys, phone, wallet, check…I’m ready to head out. Oh, wait, I almost forgot my camera and laptop! How else would I document this historic moment?! So I swung my messenger bag on my shoulder and rushed out.

I then hopped on my road bike and hit the road. The ride down here was a bit windy. I almost imagined myself in the Windy City of Chicago. Well, I managed to make it promptly. I’d always heard about the Market’s renowned bagles, so I guess my hunger was what really drove me on.

Upon arriving, I locked the bike to a “No Parking” sign pole, got my camera ready and ventured into the Farmer’s Market. Essentially, the Market the a gathering of local Virginian farmers who come to market their locally grown, organic produce…be it vegetables, jams, flowers, cookies, clothes, you name it… The theme is natural, green, and organic. Definitely sounds like a good deal to me!

Upon entering, I found some of beautiful white and purple flowers for $3.00. I would have bought them in no time, but on second thought there would have been no way biking back with them. Ahh… I can’t wait till I grow and cultivate my own garden!

I also really liked the scene of people here. There was a farmer’s culture. People were dressed in muddy slacks and shirts, grown beards, and funky vintage glasses. I don’t know if these locals meant it, but damn they had style. But you could also tell that they have this spiritual connection because of working the land for so long. They just look so content with life.

What the market really reminded me of was the Manhattan Flea Market that Mom would always take me to. I especially remember the lemonade and corn we’d eat there. Also, I remember following mom from stand to stand as she hunted for European antiques. I miss those days. So I was glad that I was keeping the tradition alive by visiting Charlottesville’s own flea market. Overall, the content of the merchandise was no different than that of the New York market: jewelry, clothes, art pieces, etc… but everything here was hand/home made. I liked that it really had a genuine feel to it.

What really pleased me was that everyone here was so blissful, everyone from the urban out-of-towners to the Amish families strolling around. At the end of it all, I snapped a couple shots, which I show below:

The Balloon Man making a child a "spider sword"

Some musician

The white & purple Flowers

My highly anticipated bagels

A dog dressed up as lobster for Halloween

Pavilion VIII: The Prayer Room

2009-10-30T21:19:00.002-04:00

I have recently discovered this jewel on the Lawn. There's not much too it. Three simple candle holder-shaped lamps, a creaky wooden floor, a beige colonial style fireplace mantle that contrasts sharply with the burgundy lining at the bottom of the walls. At first glance, its very difficult to attribute any functionality to this room. Its very minimalist with absolutely no decor, no indicator of a purpose.

Yet, there is so much spirit and serenity just by being here. The first time I passed by this room, I found a 1st year sitting in one of its corners reading a novel. I wasn't quite sure if I'd come to the right place at first, but after inquiring, she answered, "Yes, this is the Prayer room. I just come here in between classes because its quite."

The rustling shadows of the trees outside were slowly caressing the whole room. There was something so peaceful about being here that made me come back more and more. Between classes, I would look forward to escaping into this new world, where I could simply sit and meditate. I try to make the trip at least twice here. Its 9:28 and I feel like I've accomplished a feat getting through my daily prayers, so I decided to dedicate an entry to this room. This room that brings me so much comfort despite its simplicity.

I once wrote an entry titled Where Does God Live? and this room reminded me of it. In this case, I believe that God's presence is everywhere. Yes, even in a 19th Century colonial room at the University of Virginia. I think they keep the room undecorated because of UVa's secular tradition, but I actually like it that way. It expresses the true essence of Islam, i.e. its not by superficial appearances and rituals that one sincerely believes in God, but rather in the subliminal and profound intentions behind his thoughts and actions.

I have come to admire this room. At first, it deceived me for being another Lawn room, but now I understand that it is so much more. Never be judgmental. As a matter of fact, I would like to keep this room unadorned and minimalist. With no visual indicators, it enlightens one about religion and how it should really work...

I look forward to coming back to this room more often. Hopefully, merely sitting and meditating here can teach me more secrets of life.

Halloween On The Lawn

2009-10-30T18:50:00.003-04:00

Every seen a thousand kids running all over the place all at once? Well, I would consider myself lucky enough to have witnessed that earlier today. Today is the day before Halloween, and UVa holds its annual "trick or treat" on the Lawn. I'd always heard of this event but had never actually bothered to go out and see it for myself.

Its Friday evening and I'm bunking in Alderman Library for the rest of the day catching up on some reading. But I don't mind because what I'm reading is absolutely thrilling, 1948: A Soldier's Tale. After reading fifty pages or so, I realize that my attention span is waning. I start to count the checkered tiles on the floor, wondering if the designers of the "Quiet Room" intended to have these black and white checkers model a chess set or an Escher optical illusion. I'm in another world. Man, I need a study break. I look out the window and see a rainbow of colored costumes running all over the place. That's right, today they're celebrating Halloween on the Lawn.

Perfect, I find myself an excuse to escape the gory war scenes of 1948 to go grab a cup of tea from the corner and pass by the Lawn. On the way there, I am amazed by the spirit in the air. Both the kids and parents are dressed up in what seems to be an ocean of ghosts, monsters, vampires, princesses, and every other creative costume you could think of. I even ran into a banana on the way to Starbucks. I had never seen kids so ecstatic in my life. It seemed as if they'd waited all year for this event. Was it so they could dress up like creepy creatures? No, there was another motive behind it that I can attest to.

Omar and change into a new set of costumes. This is round two. We start on the apartments on the 25th floor and climb all the way down. We know our neighbors are creepy with or without Halloween, but we have a special mission, to pay everyone of them a visit and tax them with...that's right: CANDY! Isn't that what kids live for. As I walked down the Lawn, I realized how kids were running from one Lawn room to the next striving to collect as much candy as they can before the sun set. These kids were modest. Each had a little pumpkin-looking basket where they politely collected candy. I remember how Omar and I would go all-out when it came to candy. He and I would go around with those huge black trash bags, lug them around for floor to floor. We wouldn't return to the apartment until we'd filled them to the brim. I also remember how we'd go over to our friends' apartment buildings in New York City to candy tax the other tenets there. At the end of the 10/31 of the first three years of Halloween in NYC we'd collect enough candy to last us a decade. It was on my fourth year in NYC, when I was about 14 that I decided I'm over Halloween, I'm over my childhood. Since then I haven't worn a costume.

I kind of miss celebrating Halloween actually. The atmosphere at here at UVA is quite festive. People are really creative with their costumes. I've seen everything from Pirates to Wonder Woman. I think that I am above these childish games to myself, but really I have just lost another part of my childhood. I don't know if I'll dress up, but I want to celebrate Halloween this time around. I think I'll just spoil my Sunday school pupils with candy this time around.

I'm glad I got a glimpse of Halloween as it may possibly be my last time witnessing this great American tradition. Besides the tradition, it was absolutely endearing seeing every kid smile from ear to ear whenever he'd collect a new piece of candy to add to his appetizing collection. Moreover, Halloween brought back so many blissful memories of my childhood in New York and New Delhi where I'd been an ardent Halloweener.

Anyways, its back to the 1948 for now...

Midnight Cruise

2009-10-30T01:33:00.004-04:00

Its been a long week, and I'm dog tired. After spending nearly the whole day out, I got back to the apartment around 11:30pm. There was something different about this time. Instead of walking into my tranquil den to unwind, I noticed that the most irritating mainstream music was playing over my head. Apparently my neighbors were throwing a pre-Halloween party. Usually, I'd stand on my chair and knock to mark my presence, but this time around I didn't want to ruin the party, so I decided I'd do something recreational to clear my mind.

One thing was sure, I had to get out of this place ASAP before I'd go crazy from the music hammering down from my ceiling. Perfect, I'd hop on my bike and see where it takes me.

My bike is one of those simple things in life that brings me so much joy. There's something so liberating about bicycling that I can't quite seem to find the words to explain. Is it the feeling that you and the bike are one machine that work in synchronization? Or is it the wind that gently caresses your face as you speed down a hill? Or maybe that you become a different entity altogether? The bike empowers one to move and experience the world from another experience.

I decided to bike to the Downtown. There were several parties here and there, but nothing classy. It was nice riding by people in their Halloween costumes already, but I could shake the thought: some people just never grow out of their youth! Usually its not allowed to drive down the main avenue of the Downtown because the police tend to be on the lookout and its usually too crowded, but tonight the Downtown was mine! I biked back and forth with the petite stores flickering past me like the film roll of a vintage movie. I would reminisce what memories I experienced in each of these venues that cultivated me into who I am today: the Mudhouse, Cafe Cubano, Vinegar Hill, Bashir's Taverna, The Tea Bazaar, the Vintage Store, etc... I'd spend hours on the weekends strolling from one store to another.

Finally I got to the theater all of the way at the end of the avenue. It was a vast concrete surface that was totally empty. I imagined on behalf of Omar, "What a great skate spot!" Tonight it was for me and my bike. I zigzagged back and forth, feeling as if it were my first time ride a bike. I kept going in circles and circles, never wanting this ecstatic experience to end. Almost an hour had flown by. Time to head back home.

On the ride back, I was amazed to see several other road bikers on the street. We would glance at one another and embrace a silent comradeship that we bikers shared. I decided to take a detour to pass by the lively Corner. I remember when I used to be one of these 1st years hanging out near Lil John's for a midnight snack, but the scene looks too shady for me now..

I then hit JPA and passed another road biker. I'd drift past him, and a second later he'd over take me. JPA was my territory, so I passed him again. I slowed down as I got to my apartment. It was then he shouted a friendly, "Whats up?" I informed him this was my destination and wished him a good one.

So this was my midnight cruise. Its interesting how a simple bike ride can lead to a whole plethora of thoughts, memories, and feelings... It was almost as it was all a dream. At least it was worth penning it so I can look back at it after graduation and appreciate the good times.

The Pond

2009-10-25T20:46:00.010-04:00

I couldn’t get myself to pen this entry without actually visiting the pond. So here I am, with the most tranquil and peaceful landscape before my eyes trying to explain why I consistently find myself back here to reflect and contemplate. I am a firm believer that the environment you surround yourself with affects you internally. As some would argue, there is a high level of Qi in natural scenery, but this pond is exceptional. I have yet to stumble upon a spot that brings together some of Virginia’s most colorful botany side by side as this Pond does. It brings together the diverse and colorful Virginian botany. I truly envy the inhabitants of this paradise; i.e. the same four ducks that encounter every visit.

I have found strolling around this pond for the past three sunsets. I sit and watch people come and go past the pond, but no one actually bothers to sit by the pond to meditate. They really are missing out on a lot. Especially during the sunsets…there tends to be some much serene energy in the atmosphere.

I am certain that the past three days have been the most ideal of the whole year. They are autumn’s goodbye gift to Virginia. The sky has been crystal clear blue, except for some ornamental clouds, and the trees have unveiled their true beauty, each with its own degree of red, orange, or yellow. I have to admit that I’m lucky to have returned to blogging to record these memories of my last autumn in Virginia.

Virginia is one of those few places which actually gives an equal share to each of the four seasons, but autumn is by far my favorite. You see Mother Nature in its purest form as it sheds its beauty from one layer to another. It's also the mildest season, neither to chilly nor humid… its ideal. The sun radiates its heat giving one that cozy warmth in an approaching winter. The birds seem to appreciate this time of the year the most, chirping and singing away. The pond is the one place that epitomizes Virginian nature and its sheer glory.

But really, what is it about this pond that keeps me coming back?

I have some emotional attachment to this place. I remember when I first received my camera in the mail, the first thing I did was tear it out of its box, charge the battery, adjust its photography settings, hop on my bike, and visit the pond. The pond and its ducks were one of those few safe havens that accepted me during times of absolute solitude. Here, I lost track of time and forgot the outside world. All my negative thoughts and feelings would dissipate in the air like the morning mist.... I would feel connected to nature on the most primitive level. My camera allowed me to take snapshots of these memories, which I would often go back to as a means of revisiting my pond memories.

At these times of solitariness, I would imagine myself to be Holden, the protagonist of J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye who would visit the Central Park Pond in New York City. Holden’s mission was introspective…Holden would revisit the pond to quench his curiosity about life. Holden wonders where the ducks emigrate to during the wintertime. His curiosity of this phenomenal mystery reveals something much more profound about life. The ducks disappear every winter, but return every spring. In my eyes, the ducks symbolize many aspects in life… Happiness, success, courage, integrity, faith, love, and conviction all come and go just like the ducks do… So when life challenges you by taking away what you hold dear to your heart, know that when the time is right, it will return it to you just like nature returns the ducks back to the pond when the time is right.

Twilight

Twilight is the time between sunset and dusk. It is when there is a clear divergence between the illuminations of the upper atmosphere and lower atmosphere. I had been fortunate enough to experience twilight on the pond. After deciding to get back to blogging, I decided that the pond was what deserved my attention first and foremost. So I packed my camera right after a rainy day to visit the pond right when the sun was about to set. Below are some photos I shot at twilight:

My road bike and the pond

The sky at twilight

The pond and me

The pond's reflection of the landscape around it

There is no doubt that the pond has been one of the highlights of my experiences here in Virginia hitherto. Unfortunately, I will have to bid farewell to the pond as winter approaches, but like the ducks, I shall return during the spring.

The Vinegar Hill

2009-10-24T11:18:00.003-04:00

The Vinegar Hill has just become my new sanctuary. I've found myself tracing my steps every Friday back to it. The Hill is a local theater Downtown that views Indie movies. Its the kind of vintage theater with creaky doors, salient popcorn-butter stench, and an old-school tickets counter... just what I'd been looking for!

Lately, I've realized that I can't stand mainstream movies, or mainstream anything for that matter. So this is been my haven when it comes to film-watching. Moreover, I like the ambiance there mostly because of the solitude. There's something about the theater being almost completely empty except for one or two viewers whom I always see there. Something about the dust particles circulating around the beam of light giving life to the screen in complete darkness makes it all so surreal...

I've come to love this cinematic environment. Its almost addictive. Especially when the film has a plot entailing the sequence of a Greek tragedy. What strikes me though is the existential nature of many of the film plots. At some points it frustrates me because its almost as if I know what's going to happen next. There's the introduction, the climax, and the conclusion. Its a pre-ordained script that the characters follow. They're fictitious. But this isn't representative of reality. We don't live life according to some script; or do we?

Unlike the characters in the films I watch, I believe that we are liberated creatures. Our actions define our identity. We can always break out of the script and improvise according to our own free-will. The possibilities are infinite!

So just last night I viewed a movie I'd been anticipating for quite some time. I caught the 9:45 pm showing of the movie, Bright Star. The movie is a romanticist rendition of John Keats' life story. I had only vaguely heard of Keats' poetry before, so I wanted to discover who this poet really was...

Watching the movie made me reminiscent of a the romanticist phase I had endured at one point in my life...well that point still preoccupies me sometimes. I still aspire to become a writer sometime. The movie was a case in point of the little appreciation people give to the creative and literary culture. Some eloquent phrases from the movie that truly struck me were:

-"Poetry needs understanding through the senses."

-"If the poem does not come as natural as the leaves of a tree, then it better not come at all."

Some of these ideas were truly moving... Keats hit the spot for me because I am a great admirer of Romanticist poetry, especially that of Wordsworth and Coleridge since I'd taken them in High School. Nowadays, I mostly indulge in mystical poetry, such as Rumi and Hafiz since they complement my quest for soul searching...

The rest of movie was tailored to those seeking a romantic/love story, which was fine but it was sort of a fantasy fairy tale, which detracted from the authenticity of the Keats' story...

Also, coming up next month is the Virginia Film Festival, which is due to take place in Charlottesville, so I'll definitely be looking forward to that..

What do you know, I've found myself a new Charlottesville tradition...

The Revival

2009-10-23T21:44:00.004-04:00

It suddenly hit me one day; “Actions speak louder than words!” Ever since then, I’d stopped writing. That was the death of a writer. That was when I ceased to exist.

This is the revival.

I’ve realized that the time has come to begin exposing myself to the world. What actually happened to me in the past couple of months when I stopped writing was that I became enslaved to the rush of life. I gave up reading, writing, poetry, music, religion, etc…I gave up my passions; I gave up the things that define me. I had come to believe that these aspects of my life were no longer practical and would never factor into my future success.

Then, I came to realize that my soul was being depleted. I literally felt empty, worthless, colorless… What had happened to the glorious days of art and literature that had filled my life with so much ecstasy? I then came to realize that we only live this life once. There are essentials that must be entertained to make this a fruitful life.

One of them is writing.

Expressing myself contributes and enriches the many other dimensions of my life. Just as I realize that life is only lived once, I also realize that there are moments and phases of life that escape one’s life. It is therefore imperative to catch them, freeze them, and ingrain them in the eternal walls of life. This is a craft practiced since the dawn of civilization. Go to the temples of Egypt and you’ll see how divine writing was for the pioneers of civilization. Even the Prophet himself declared, “The ink of the scholar is more sacred than the blood of the martyr.” The subject in question is writing.

I needed this therapy to live a meaningful life. Writing is a very personal and private experience. Sometimes it torments me to imagine what the readers of my diaries will think when they open them. But I realize that when you write to an audience, it’s a different experience. You are not only enriching your life, but also theirs. You paint a picture for them, one that is rich with experiences from distant lands and times. This is why I return to blogging.

The diary is my true friend.

But I always felt that I could be more candid when writing to my diary. Every Friday, I’d bike alone to the Downtown, walk down the main avenue, absorb the ambiance of this haven, grab a slice of pizza from Vita Nova, go gallery hopping, and I’d always return like a dog to the Mudhouse, the café that defines my writing. I’d think of myself as Jean Paul Sartre in his Parisian cafes. At the end of the day, I’d sit and recap the week. I wouldn’t write of events, but rather emotions and ideas.

Writing in my diary was like talking to a friend. It would always listen to you when you needed an ear. And when you closed it shut, it would go away. Sometimes I would enjoy what I was writing. Sometimes I would hate it. But I always needed it. I’d hide from people that I kept a diary because I thought it was a sign of weakness. Writing in my diary meant solitude and melancholy. But I realized that this diary was selfish. It would keep all my expressions to itself. It would never share them. I then visited my abandoned blog… I realized that it was rich with photos and words that made others happy. It was opened to the world.

Back to blogging.

Snapping back to reality, I realize that this is my final year at the University of Virginia. I have lived here for the past four years and have yet to share my experiences with others. I have been as selfish as my diary, keeping everything to myself. It is now time that I share this precious experience with the world. As of this day, I promise to pack my camera, laptop, and blog with me wherever I go. I am on a mission to record this experience and share it with you. Yes, you patient reader who is courteous enough to acknowledge my presence. I shall visit the Art museum, the pond, the Downtwon, the Corner, and all the holes in the walls that I have discovered here in Charlottesville. I only ask one favor of you; that you become loyal to me and I will be loyal to you. From this day on, you can expect to hear a lot more from me. I look forward to reviving this relationship, dear reader.

Sincerely Yours,

Mostafa

Impressions on Egypt...

2009-07-12T17:55:00.002-04:00

Ever since arriving to Cairo a month or so ago, I have not had the least opportunity to blog; why is this? For one thing, Egypt isn't the kind of place where I find myself with spare time on my hands to sit done and think as I do in Charlottesville. The rush of this city is extraordinary. I only get the chance to jot down a few reflections and ideas when commuting via the metro or bus, but this does not suffice because, throughout the day, I find all sorts of epiphanies springing to mind really worth writing about.

There is something about Egypt that makes it so exotic even though its just home. I can't figure out quite what it is. Could it be the truly libertarian nature of this nation where you have extremes on all sides of thoughts, ideologies, beliefs or could it be the drastic dichotomy between modernization and tradition? It must the the spirit that runs through the heart of this country that establishes an eternal, stable harmony in this country no matter how irreparable it might seem. But you know what, we are satisfied, or at least I am with Egypt. Let the pessimists complain, but I enjoy it all. Despite this whole mess I see before my eyes every morning on the daily commute, I am content because there is something about this land that is unexplainable but makes it so special.

This is all so abstract, I know. It might not make sense the you nor may it make sense to me in the future, but these are my feelings and impressions of Egypt so far and I think they might be universal for other Egyptians too.

Oh well, at least its a start to getting back to blogging...

Will there ever be peace?

2009-06-09T13:31:00.002-04:00

Its one of those questions that we've grown up asking. One of those questions that envelops the human intellect day and night; one of those questions similar to "Does God exist?" or "Why do we exist?" Now the question I pose shouldn't have the same gravity or existentialist connotation to it, but it seems to be one of those questions that deserves its place in the panthenon of questions about humanity and the divine.

All this pondering began as I was stranded in the traffic rush hour of Istanbul. Enveloped by automobiles of all sort, I flipped through radio channel after radio channel hoping to find something decent. It was one of those days when every song on the radio sucks. I then landed a channel that was playing a pretty groovy Mediterranean beat. I was satisfied and left the channel on for a while. After my ear began picking up the deviance of the lyrics from Turkish, I realized that it was Greek song. What a second...I'm in Turkey listening to a Greek song. Weren't these two nations arch enemies less than a century ago? Don't I always get a look of disappointment whenever I tell a Greek friend that I'll be traveling to Turkey?

As the channel returned to the Turkish commercials, I thought to myself... Will I live to the day when an Israeli song will be aired in Egypt? History seems to blow the sands of time no matter how stagnant they are...Change overtakes all. But will this ever be the case in our region? Its seems that this is one of the questions that the world's greatest intellectuals have failed to answer over the millenia... So do we really have to passively submit to the test of time to answer this question?

Where Does God Live?

2009-06-05T00:42:00.007-04:00

I once read somewhere something along the lines of:

I looked for God in a church; I could not find Him.
I looked for God in a mosque; I could not find Him.
I looked for God in my heart, and I found Him.

These sage words have remained with me since. Belief in God, I believe, is an internal as the deepest corner of the heart, where His sacred temple resides. I have always thought to myself, does the location and techniques we use to worship Him really matter? Imagine if we could convert a consumerist hub like a mall, with all its luscious space, into a mosque. Or rather, what if it were a universal mosque, where Jews, Christians, and Muslims can worship God in their own approach; because isn't it the same God after all?

Yet, I do have to admit that I was stunned by what I witnessed yesterday. I never thought about it, but to this day, we continue to build our houses of worship in old-age architecture. Why is that? Is religion not compatable with modernity? Hence, for the first time in my life, I had witnessed a modern-style architecturally built mosque; it was simply revolutionary. Not only that, but the mosque's designer was a female, quite a feat in and of itself in the Islamic world.

I was flabbergasted when first reading an article about the construction of this mosque sometime ago on a bbc article, but visiting this mosque yesterday was a completely different experience. The simplicity and modernity of the mosque's interior and courtyard emitted such a tranquility I had not experienced at a mosque before. Even the design of the mosque itself took theological philosophy into consideration, which I thought was remarkable. Although the designer had placed the prayer section for women behind that of the men, it had elevated them to allow them a better glimpse of the mosque's internal view. I thought this to be very much in line with the notion that heaven is underneath mothers' feel in Islam, i.e. the mosque symbolizing heaven.

Overall, I feel like Islam has always encouraged architecture as a means of positively influencing believers. This is not an Islamic concept on its own, but one of all faiths. Yet, since our childhood, we are told that a mosque is God's home. No wonder why the architects of Istanbul's graceful mosques have meticulously strived to manifest God in their work. I recall reading in Alain de Botton's Architecture of Happiness that Islamic theologians strived to write beauty into matter in the construction of mosques, because ultimately beauty beauty translanted into purity and goodness of faith. This was the believe that by absorbing the beauty of architecture, one could become a better person. This is very much in line with the teachings of Avicenna's teachings that "God is the source of every beautiful thing."

I believe that the moral of this story is that with modernity in Islam can still come beauty...

Globalizing the Arab World

2009-06-02T20:31:00.004-04:00

I couldn't get any sleep, so I thought I'd write for a change. Recently, I've been thinking a lot about the future and I'm optimistic. I'm actually looking forward to going back to Egypt sometime after graduation, at least if not immediately because I realize that it is once more becoming the land of opportunity, at least if its a blessing in disguise. What's interesting is that I see the complaints of every Egyptian to be an opportunity. I feel like the war, corruption, and inequality in the Arab World to be an opportunity. If you think about it mathematically, its as if there's a problem waiting for a solution and the one who finds the solution wins the prize, be it money, the Noble Peace Prize, or what have you....

I feel like there's a void of goods and services in the Middle East just waiting to be filled. The only problem is that our people are just so disconnected from the rest of the world. I can honestly attest that I feel absolutely no cultural shock when traveling from America to Turkey to China, economically speaking. This is a globalized worlds and the markets in each country should be identical. Unfortunately, I don't feel the same in Egypt. Egypt, when it comes to media, industry, markets, etc... is behind. For example, I was watching MTV Turkey today and couldn't distinguish between the Turkish and American music videos... at times the Turkish ones blew my mind by how well they were choreographed. In comparison, Egypt's media is simply lacking, except for Orascom's channel, which I love! The point is, there is such a dichotomy that's needs some mending.

This is when we step in. When I say we, I refer to the youth of the Arab World. The lucky few opportunists that have made it big in the Arab World were the ones that saw this void and filled it in by connecting the world to their countries. In Egypt, the Smart Village is just an example of kids who did a really good job of connecting Egypt with the rest of the IT world. I believe that the fastest way to bring about this connection with the rest of the world will be through technology!

I might be biased when saying this because of my engineering background, but I believe that technology, throughout history, has been what made empires ascend or collapse. But more than ever, with the advent of the Internet, people can connect to the world and shape their lives. The internet is not only the best means of expression, it allows interactivity between people at the furthest corners of the world in a matter of seconds. This has made competition so intense, but this is where the opportunity comes in. There is barely any opportunity in the Arab World. When Western markets are almost completely saturated, it is the emerging markets of the Arab World that are still in needs of goods and services. It is for this reason that through Internet and technology that we can bring the globe to those who might not otherwise have anyway of engaging with the world.

Its almost as if I've just had an epiphany, but I believe the Internet is the most powerful tool out there. It is for this reason that I shall strive to upgrade my skill set to accommodate the future demands of this new market I call home...

Reading & Dreams

2009-05-23T18:47:00.002-04:00

I just finished my pre-bedtime reading session and it occurred to me that there's this string that interweaves the last thing your absorb on the page and your dreams. As my half-open, sleepy eyes photograph those last images slipping before my eyes, I begin to enter into the movie theaters of my dreams. Tonight's viewing on the silver screen is Mahfouz's Thebes at War. The last couple of words that the mind animates on the film rolls of tonights theater launch us in to much more vivid, realistic experience of the novel.

It is from this point that one's dreams become a mere sequel of what he's read in the tonight's session. Its almost as if I continue writing, through the imagery of my dreams, where the writer left off...The scene , the actors, the time and the place are a extension of the novel's milieu and characters, personalized to the dreamer's perception. The dream itself is another tale left to the mind's subconscious world.

The Philosophy of Emulation

2009-05-23T15:55:00.005-04:00

Days and days of delving into literature and art have led me to conclude that everything is a mere emulation of something else, i.e. its double. From people to paintings, nothing seems original to me anymore.

The string of words you read before your eyes and they stylistic means by which I intermingle them are an adoption of the convoluted web of the archives of my literary intelligence. As I extrapolate this theorem, I hereby claim that everything under the sun is a mere replica of...yes, you've figured it out, something else under the sun.

This thought occurred to me not out of a spark of ingenuity, but rather from experience. To claim that two "creations" are identical may be a bit too far fetched, but to claim that all knowledge is built upon a precedent reservoir of other, twin-like knowledge would not be outlandish. So you ask yourself, what about the issues of plagiarism and intellectual property that seem to be the buzz words of today? Well I hate to break it to you, but they're meaningless in the literary and art world. Let me prove my point...

Ever since my youth, I have always taken pride in claiming that so-and-so invention belonged to my civilization, be it Egyptian, Islamic, or Arab...

Just when we were learning about the "atom" in middle school, I recall, during a cab ride up 2nd Avenue on the East Side of Manhattan, the Pakistani driver was insistent on proving to me that the West had ripped off everything from the East. It were the likes of Ibn Sina, Ibn Firnas, etc... that were behind such great movements like the Scientific Revolution and not their Western counterparts. I was convinced.

I was young, biased, and uninformed at the time... for I was later taught that "All knowledge is one!" It doesn't matter who invented what or who stole what from what...as long as it was a contribution to the breadth of mankind's understanding of this dream we call life, the it was valid...

To begin with, all knowledge is traced back to the Source. Whether you believe in God or Allah, all knowledge is divinely inspired, or so I believe. Whether it's Ibn Arabi's account of Mohamed's travels to the seven heavens or Dante's Divine Comedy, they are both one and the same, inspired by the Source. The fact that both discources discuss Heaven and Hell at about the same time to such exact twin-like precision indicates that there must be an inspring Source.

After reading Robinson Crusoe, I was proud of accomplishing a feat worthy of laudation, i.e. reading the first novel ever written in English. I was shocked to then find out that this was a mere copy of the Moorish Ibn Tufeyl's novel with the same plot, except applied to an Arab setting. This time the outcast was marooned on a desert island instead of a nautical one.

The point is to claim that so and so is a rip-off of so and so is to simplistic when delving into the matter of twin-like knowledge.

I recently toured an exhibition at the Sabanci Museum titled "Travel to the West". It was the story of the Turkish artists of the 19th century that ventured to Paris to acquire a taste for design, perspective, anatomy, and artistic concepts that would leand them to emulate the classical, romantic, and realistic movement works of their French counterparts. What these Turks came back with is the skill set of painting Istanbul with the same exact techniques that the French painted Paris. Hence, emulation of knowledge under different circumstances is another attribute of imitation.

This brings me to the point that I've been craving to make. Does it ever occur to you that you try to become somebody else? Well, think about it, don't we live in a society that expects to act a certain way, look a certain way, achieve in a certain way... Say, in religion, isn't it a matter of reaching perfection so as to emulate the virtues of Mohamed or Jesus, in work and business, isn't it a matter of achieving the success of some tycoon, say Bill Gates, in sports its a David Beckham, et cetera, et cetera. The point is, in every realm of knowledge or every activity in life, there is always an extreme that one has to imitate.

To be frank, I really have no clue where I'm going with this entry, but I'm enjoying penning down my stream of consciousness...

But what if one becomes too enveloped in this craving to become someone else? Does it lead to instanity or ingenuity? Can one become one's self? Should one be embarressed that he's not satisfied with his own being and is always eyeing others to emulate or is that what we should aspire to be doing (either because of personal or societal reasons)? I pose these questions to some curious reader who has ventured this far...

But if what if there truly is a soul-mate out there that is meant for us to emulate? Is it loneliness and lack of self-worth that drives one to want to be someone else, or is it truly our destiny to morph into some other being? Whether its through our actions, writings, or reasoning, is there anything that we acquire and produce that is truly original? Does the mere rearrangement of acquired knowledge to innovate considered original?

Now that I do not believe in originality, I believe that the true art of emulation stems from the adaption of the phenomena created, or rather emulated, over the centuries by our forefathers who roamed this world who were inspired by divinity. By drawing upon the creations of these renaissance men, and tweeking these creations a bit here and a bit there, aren't we creating something that can be called our own?

This is the reason why I am inspired to write. Reading something truly magnificent, be it a poem of Rumi's, a prose from some Nobel laureate's speech, or some other great work, I aspire to also become a creator of such a marvel. Hence, to draw upon other sources as I write is a way of continuing the philosophy of emulation.. I implore you to think, dear reader, whether this philosophy could truly be the "secret" that has led many on the paths of success, fame, and glory...

On Diary Writing

2009-05-17T14:27:00.002-04:00

Why is it that every time I set foot into the house I rush to table where my diary and pen await?

Lately, I have been quite frantic about recording every experience. Its almost as if they're dreams... i.e. these experiences I go through during the day. The only way to legitimize them as reality is to carve them in stone, so to say. For some reason, I feel like whenever an important event happens in one's life, it is worth penning. No excuses. Not recording these experiences on one's personal scribes makes them as irrelevant and insignificant as if they hadn't occurred.

I guess this is the explanation I had been seeking to explain my impulsively strange addition to penning the events that shape my life. I guess I'm sharing it here because it might just be another one of those epiphanies that happen so rarely in life...

The Writing Poster

2009-05-15T09:06:00.005-04:00

Now that I'm on this writing frenzy all of the sudden, I found this as an other piece to add to my inspiration puzzle.

I found it worth sharing. Its one of these simple artifacts that makes sense of why we write and expresses emotions relating to our approach that we end up taking for granted; at least I do.

Back To Writing

2009-05-15T08:40:00.003-04:00

Dear Reader, whoever you are, wherever you are...

Once again, I extend my sincerest regrets for leaving you yearning for words to salvage your interest from boredom. For I myself have been quite bored lately. I recently read in one of those cliched forwards that "An idle mind is the workshop of the devil." I am convinced; boredom really does put you on a perpetual trail, or rather a vicious cycle, to nowhere.

It is for this reason that I have decided to pick up the pen once more. To write, I believe, is a two way street. It is an elating sensation to create for the writer. Likewise, it is a feeds the intellectual consumerism of the reader.

Even if no one reads my works, I shall continue to write. For the mere practice of writing is to establish your existence in this world. To write is to live, I believe. For even if these pages are never looked at, I feel comfort knowing that I have left my mark in this world. At the very least, I can deceive myself to think that I shall never be forgotten.

What has held me back from writing. Is it "Writer's Block"? No, I don't believe in such a myth! Could it be the introvert in me taking over again? Maybe, I have been writing in my moleskin a lot more often. But then again, I have resolved that publishing one's works are a way to keep touch with the world. Also, there a lot of pleasant memories that I wish to share with the world. What then has been the true source that has kept me from writing? Distractions. I believe that if one is truly passionate about something, such as writing, they will make time for it no matter what. It will be a priority. Lately, my vision has been clouded with worry. Anxiety about what is to come in the future. I have resolved that to write and reflect is to release such tension. Contemplate, introspect, and ponder. Writing is your outlet. I'm convinced.

Why now, why all of the sudden. Frankly, I have opened another of my Pamuk delights. This time its The Black Book. Reading it has stimulated ideas and emotions that I wish to pen while they hover in my mind.

Well, I'm glad to be back. Hopefully my inspiration will not wane as I owe it to my blog and reader to find what it is their curiosity might be seeking...

An Excerpt: Diwan Shams Tabrizi

2009-04-12T16:35:00.002-04:00

I happened to stumble upon this poem by Rumi from his "The Works of Shams of Tabriz", which I instantly fell in love with.

"What can I do, Submitters to God? I do not know myself.
I am neither Christian nor Jew, neither Zoroastrian nor Muslim,
I am not from east or west, not from land or sea,
not from the shafts of nature nor from the spheres of the firmament,
not of the earth, not of water, not of air, not of fire.
I am not from the highest heaven, not from this world,
not from existence, not from being.
I am not from India, not from China, not from Bulgar, not from Saqsin,
not from the realm of the two Iraqs, not from the land of Khurasan
I am not from the world, not from beyond,
not from heaven and not from hell.
I am not from Adam, not from Eve, not from paradise and not from Ridwan.
My place is placeless, my trace is traceless,
no body, no soul, I am from the soul of souls.
I have chased out duality, lived the two worlds as one.
One I seek, one I know, one I see, one I call.
He is the first, he is the last, he is the outer, he is the inner.
Beyond "He" and "He is" I know no other.
I am drunk from the cup of love, the two worlds have escaped me.
I have no concern but carouse and rapture.
If one day in my life I spend a moment without you
from that hour and that time I would repent my life.
If one day I am given a moment in solitude with you
I will trample the two worlds underfoot and dance forever.
O Sun of Tabriz (Shams Tabrizi), I am so tipsy here in this world,
I have no tale to tell but tipsiness and rapture."-Rumi

Sunrise Revelations on O-Hill

2009-04-08T08:29:00.003-04:00

This dawn, I accomplished a feat I had longed for since the beginning of this year, mounting O-hill to catch the sun-rise. O-hill is the highest summit on the campus, where the University observatory is located. This is usually the path I tend to take for my 5k jogs, but since it elevates incredulously and unexpectedly, I tend to overestimate my stamina and end up not pacing myself up the climb. From some strange reason, in the midst of a stressful week, I decided to climb O-Hill by dawn.

Despite the advantages of metabolic conditioning of a early morning jog, there is something inside of me that had been craving to conquer O-Hill when it least expected it. A wise man once told me that the highest Qi energy levels tend to be during the sunrise, when the world is just coming to life. Despite setting my alarm for 8am, my eagerness for the climb led me to rise at 6:30am. Without wasting a minute, I opened my eyes wide, stretched my arms, and without a yawn was in my running shoes!

At first, the run was peculiarly unpleasurable. My joints were stiff, the frigid cold Charlottesville morning breeze was hitting against my face, and it was still dull grey outside. I had beat the sun in waking up. This was my opportunity to mount O-Hill, the beast, when it last expected it. As I jogged past the pond, I my eyes gradually awakened as life began to rise with the sun. The ducks were still flapping their wings on the shores of the pond, ready for their morning swim. Even the industrial construction site that I passed was beginning to start up their lorry engines. I was feeling energy in the air from every direction. What really got me going though was the notion that I had to conquer O-Hill before the end of its slumber.

As I began to gain momentum, I passed an battalion of joggers; about a dozen or so. They were chanting some Greek war song. It was then that my imagination enveloped me in the epics of Odysseus, Orpheus, Heracles. Soon, I was in a Greek legend. It is these silly but precious figments of Homer imaginations that I recall on these jogs that put in the mood of indomitability. As I reached the base of the hill, I began to pace myself, promising not to stop my run, as I usually do, no matter if my legs gave out. As I elevated the mountain and as O-Hill steepened, I realized that it was really beginning to test me. It is for this reason that I was humbled by its sublimity. As I ran, I lower my head as a sign of respect to grandeur of this natural landscape. Although my pace slowed tremendously, I persisted knowing that the beacon inside me was still glowing. It is runs like these that really test your might and clear your mind. As I kept feeling like I would fail, I awaited my second wind that would put me on an unstoppable runner's high. Despite my proximity to the crest of the hill, this much-needed jolt wouldn't arrive...until I peeked through the forestry to witness the silver dome of the observatory, marking the hill's summit. As I neared this pinnacle point, the slope steepened even more, but I seemed to forget my stamina and it was as if my mind was running, and not my physique.

Despite all the progress I made, there was no trace of dawn in sight. I couldn't see the sun. It was as if it was on the other side of the hill...so it pushed me even more to reap my reward of seeing the sun in all its glory as it rose. As I reached the observatory, I was awed by what I had seen. The sun, still shifting between the clouds that covered it like its sheets, was still struggling to penetrate its rays through the sky. It was going through the same struggle that I was going though, trying to find its identity for the day. It is endearing how we can relate to nature. I couldn't help but think of God and his magnificence at this sight!

As I descended the hill, I felt that I had accomplished what I came here to do, mount O-Hill in a jog, see the sunrise, and discover myself an inch more... I was pleased to return to the IRC to find a hearty Breakfast of Champions awaiting me. As I munched down my boiled eggs, cream cheese and peanut butter bagle, and orange juice while reading a Fareed Zakaria article on Samuel Huntington, I was truly satisfied with my start to the day and could not have asked for a better morning.

The Law of Attraction & The Secret

2009-03-25T21:04:00.002-04:00

I just finished watching The Secret, recommended to me by friend, whom I have always found to be blissful, optimistic, and hopeful. Although I was always a true believer that life should be lived in accordance with the philosophies of the ancients, I was content to watch such a motivational movie. The secret is essentially based on the Law of Attraction, which claims that the power of the mind is insurmountable. Simply put, the idealistic notion behind this law is that man becomes what he thinks about and that we should spend the majority of our time thinking about what we desire. The universe supposedly works in mysterious ways to deliver what we ask of it. All that is required of us is to feel and think about such desires. The trick is to always remain grateful, be positive, and visualize what we desire.

Essentially the steps of the Law Of Attraction are broken down into three steps:
1. Ask- Know what you want and ask the universe for it.
2. Believe- Feel and behave as if the object you desire is on its way.
3. Receive- Be open to receiving it.

Personally, I felt like The Secret had a very existentialist connotation to it. It goes along with the lines that we are solely responsible for achieving our happiness and that God exists but he is merely waiting for us to determine our destiny. Additionally, it advocates being blissful and that searching for bliss is man's mission in life, which I agree with wholeheartedly. It also mentions that we are essentially made up of energy, just like every other creation in this universe and that we must merely focus on attracting it. What it comes down to is that our thoughts determine our reality whether we are conscious or unconscious of it. I believe the basic premises of this theory are a positive augmentation to anyone's outlook on life and should definitely be practiced. I also feel that we are innately born knowing all of the postulates of this theory, so the whole conspiracy that this secret was kept from humanity is a bit exaggerated for me. But all in all, I like the positivity aspect it advocates.

Impressionism, Cubism, Urban Realism, etc...

2009-03-25T16:32:00.009-04:00

I just got back from the UVa Art Museum studio, where I spent another three-hour art session enlightening myself on this fascinating world of art. This is a continuation of the art class I've enrolled in to explore my hidden creativity. Today, Fanella, the art instructor wanted to take us down another lane of the schools of art. Subsequent to really focusing on realism in the previous class, she wanted to introduce us to the development of art and its gradual progression to abstraction. As she put it, she wanted to walk us, hand in hand, through a dark tunnel with flashlights. What truly intrigued me was that we were not only surveying the different realms of art, but the development of human perception.

Initially, Fanella, took us to a realism gallery dating from the 1800s. She explained that since the time of the renaissance until the late 1800s, realism was emphasized by the artist. It was encouraged to depict subjects as they appeared in everyday life without any unique signature touches of the artist. This objective reality condemned any deviations that may have expressed the artist's own impressions or emotions. She pointed out some techniques involved in realism, which was particularly objects closer to us, the viewer, entailed a much higher level of detail and that the colors for these objects were much saturated. As one looks into the distance of a landscape, for instance, the colors tend to blemish, become diluted, and the details are not so precise. This would allow the effect of proportionality to take place since the greater the distance, the less clear objects become. Fanella gave the example of road signs; the further they are, they less we can make out what they say. Notice this painting by Millet, titled the Gleaners, where is is very classical realism, but one can make out the details of the women, the colors of their clothing and hats, whereas the distance looks blemished and the colors are fading in contrast to the deep rich colors of the women's clothing.

We were next taken to a gallery of Modern American Impressionism and Urban Realism. This was a much richer type of art in my eyes. The impressionist works we viewed endeavored to capture the experience, or rather the impressions, or the artist. There tends to be much more fluidity, dynamism, and activity in life. It is for this reason, artists attempted to capture this reality by from how we perceive, not merely by how it appears. Impressionism gives us a different sensational feeling than realism and it is for this reason that it deviates drastically from how an object might appear from reality, on the path to abstraction. These paintings were marked with a collage of brushstrokes of different colors, almost appearing like pixels of a digital photograph. The more brushstrokes, the more intense the detail. Moreover, impressionist art overemphasized certain aspects of a painting, such as the emphasis on light. Also, aspects of life that we may perceive to be something ordinary take on a whole new dimension because the artist is attuned on a different frequency level than we are. He captures the reflections, sparkles, current, waves of water with a plethora of colors that defies our expectations of water being simply blue and green. For example, this painting of Monet:

reveals the water to have strands of green, blue, white, brown, black, and even orange to represent the reflection of the setting sun. The human experience is what is emphasized in this genre of art, especially in terms of the angles and perceptions through which the artist visualizes this art. This was a revolution in the art world and it evolved much more outdoors painting simply so that the artist could live the experience and transmit it on canvas.

Our last tour for the day was that of the cubist gallary, which encompassed various modernist paintings of Picasso and Braque, the artists who spearheaded cubism. Inspired by recently imported art from Africa, especially African masks, cubism was a new way for artists to express their perception of the human body into various dimensions. Breaking up the body included realizing that it was a creation of different components with different shades, volumes, and overall specifications. Notice the rigidity and segmentation of the human face in this African mask:

Cubism attempted to breakdown and capture the simplicity and segmentation of the human figure, essentially into cubes. This was a radical and influential deviation from all precedent forms of art. Moreover, human figures tend to be abiguous because the visual images of the human body tend to split up, drawn from different angles, and reassembled to create one object from multiple angles. This allows breadth of insight into the understanding of the artist's perception of the object. One object, drawn on the same canvas from different angles becomes multiple objects morphed into one. Cubism is the as abstract as we'd gotten so far as it times time, pondering, and contemplation to interpret the movement, animation, and story behind each cubist artwork. The following is a cubist portrait of the master of cubism, Picasso:

Our attempt for today's drawing session was to capture still life from a multitude of dimensions, while giving it a cubist and abstract touch. Since we couldn't afford hiring a model to pose for us, we had to settle with stuffed animals for the time being. I picked a stuffed teddy rabbit as my object. Our mission was to capture the three-dimensional, active, movement of this still object. The action would not necessarily be a result of the rabbit moving, but rather, our perception of the rabbit from different angles and with different drawing techniques. Firstly, we drew the objects from one fixed position with a single stroke of a pencil, without ever removing it from the paper; we then drew the object from a different position, with a different colored pencil, this time without looking. Lastly, we drew the same object from a diametrically opposite angle. We then shaded the three rabbits in with the respective colors. At this point, we attempted to morph the three rabbits into one. We did this by mixing and matching the rabbits so as to give them life and animation. Below is my attempt:

I understand that my drawing may come across as a bunch of kindergarten scribbles, but it was my attempt at emulating the perceptions of art I had absorbed for the day. It is through these endeavors, which may seem silly, that I feel like I am stretching my imagination and gaining more confidence in my creations.

The Reality in Egypt...

2009-03-24T23:43:00.001-04:00

A very interested documentary I came across...

I won't lie, but this is the utopia of Cairo that I have lived in for my most recent memories of home...

Siesta In The Grass

2009-03-23T18:47:00.003-04:00

Today, upon returning home, I felt so bogged down with stress. Despite munching down another one of my splendid salad creations, I still felt quite drained. From what I could not tell. As I was about to open my economics book to continue reading, I couldn't help but glance out of the darkness of my room to see the lush green grass calling... Immediately, as if hypnotized, I grabbed my mug filled with green tea, ran down the staircase, and followed the trail to the garden that had paints the beautiful scenery I see every time I look out the window. I literally felt entranced by the energy that the garden emitted. As the sun was setting, the birds were chirping, and the damp coolness in the air descending, I could help but stroll in the garden for a couple of minutes before finding a small valley in midst of the garden. After whirling around this new sanctuary like a dervish, I couldn't help but gradually descend to rest my head on the grass. As I descended, I felt that I was slowly submerging into the peace and calm of nature while leaving the worries of life and reality behind. As I inhaled the deep cool breeze, I could feel myself slowly rejuvenated. As my eyes surveyed the opening around me, a plethora of thoughts raced through my mind. Although my chain of thoughts was moving from one idea to the other, I felt at complete ease, as if in a cradle in heaven. At one point, I would imagine my dog Prince run towards me waiting to be pet and how no dog I had pet since his departure had every elated me as much as he did. I then stared on the branches of a nearby Red Oak tree to see a squirrel hop from branch to branch, devouring the nuts on each branch on his way to the pinnacle of the tree. It amazed me how his body could defy gravity as he lunged on the most fragile stems of the branches. As my eyes moved fixed on the silhouettes of the stems of the leafless trees in the distance, I was awed and humbled by the grace of God's manifestations in his creatures. As the breeze swayed the trees from side to side, I imagined the wind feeding the stems of these trees as it fills the bronchioles of my lungs. As my eyes shifted to the sky above, I witnessed a sparrow gliding on the wind currents above. With minimal effort, it skimmed the sky, flapping once or twice every couple of seconds to gain moment. I was amazed by how its slow motion resembled a gold fish in an aquarium. Following this flying fish was a bigger one, a big blue whale if you may...Actually, as I snapped back to reality, it was a airplane swooshing through the clouds... I wondered to myself, where could it be flying from, where could it be flying to...Oh how I wished it could fly me to some exotic, distant land...could this place I may be dreaming of be "home"? As one thought yielded to the next, my imagination began to yield to my dreams...Before I knew it, I was dozing off to my afternoon siesta as the sun was setting in the between the trees that now engulfed me. The darkness that gathered above and below the setting sun sandwiched the rays it emitted to create a masterpiece of artwork that only the hand of Nature could paint... As the sun set, so did my lids descend with it... I was in such a serene state of mind that I felt I had discovered my eternal resting place....
...Upon sniffing the fumes of smoke carried by the breeze my way, I snapped out of this tranqual state. It was some of the French kids puffing away on some cigs that put an end to this sereneity. It was about time to return to reality anyways. As I got up and picked up my mug of green tea, which suprising was still hot, I couldn't was astonished to see that I had experienced all of this in a span of a couple of minutes. I think that this was what my inner soul had been craving for so long and what I realized that it really wasn't my beautiful environment that had caused me such elation, but rather the manifestation of my inner thoughts...

On Cafe Culture: Cairo, Istanbul, etc...

2009-03-19T22:20:00.000-04:00

Recently I read a truly interesting BBC article titled "Sad Goodbye To Cosmopolitan Cairo". Cairo's cafe culture has always been an interest of mind. When I studied in AUC in the Summer of 07, I would always grab a cup of hot white chocolate and sit in the balcony of Cilantro in Midan El Tahrir, what I consider to be the nucleus of Cairo's hustle and bustle. There was something about the dynamism and energy of the city that stimulated me to return to that same spot almost every morning. Whether it was with friends, with a book, or just to come and sit down with my mug to observe people, there was something about Cairo's cafe cuture that was addicting. I cannot say that Cilantro is a justified example for experiencing Egypt's authentic cafe culture, but gave me taste that ever since put me on a trail to discover what it is about the cafes that enriched the Arab world's intellectual movements.

In my early teenage years, I remember going to the Naguib Mahfouz cafe in Khan El Khalili. I remember seeing portraits of the mastermind there, but I had no appreciation of his works at that time. But I soon discovered through my readings of Arabic literature that it all started in cafes like the one I had visited so long ago. Sitting in the midst of cosmopolitan Cairo, some of Egypt's greatest writers would congregate like think tanks to share their impressions and inspirations. This rich literary culture has died since, but I have been able to relive it through my readings.

I remember back when I was in AUC, on one of my daily tours of their outstanding bookstore, I picked up a book titled Cafe Riche. A publication by the AUC press, it was a book that chronicled Cairo's rich intellectual cafe culture that progressed over the past century and how it influenced Egypt's literary movement. The title of the book was a mere specimen of Cairo's vast pool of cafes.

After reading the BBC article, I was disappointed to find out that this intellectually-luxurious cafe world I had imagined had become artificial and is slowly rotting as Egypt's intellectual literary movement withers away. I still imagine nostalgic Downtown Cairo to have the Parisian touches bestowed upon it by Khedive Ismail, but I have to terms with the fact that the cafes that once cultivated Egypt's rich literary history are now void of any intellectualism.

Nowadays, most of these cafes are alcohol-stenched, dusty, and overcrowded with the dregs of society, if I may be excused to say. I once visited one of these cafes in an old, shabby motel in the middle of Zamalek with a couple of American friends. We took a very shaky lift up to the top floor of the motel to find that it was a run-down cafe converted to a shady bar, where instead of some of Egypt's greatest thinkers and writers would congregate, it had become a hub for taxi drivers to drink their lives away. I was quite disappointed. My friends and I were there till sunrise, and it was such an irony watching my countrymen drunk on whisky while the Fajr athan was sounding...

What happened to the classiness, and style of the past that attracted the latest trends of thought and fashion from Europe straight to the alleys of Cairo? The BBC article I was reading blamed religious conservatism in Egypt as the main culprit for the decay of this rich cafe culture. I wouldn't disagree, but I would also attribute it to the lack of interest in literature...actually, there is no point to beat around the bush...simply put, I would attribute it to ignorance and lack of regard for education.

Unfortunately, the elite that once set the standards for these cafes have also sought new, more suburban places to avoid the chaos that has engulfed downtown Cairo. Living in Katamaya, I can attest that I feel like I come from a completely different country when I step out into Downtown Cairo.

I believe that the closest thing that has allowed me to relive what I believe would have been Cairo's rich cafe cuture is Istanbul's backstreet cafes. In the alleys stemming from Istiklal Avenue, Omar and I have been able to discover very sophisticated cafes which resemble those of Manhattan's Village, where there is the decency of sipping of on a glass of wine, nothing obnoxious like I had seen in Cairo. My favorite spot in Istanbul was the Algerian/French Street, with its steps, fountain, petite colorful apartment buildings.

Omar in front of the Algerian Cafe Street in Istanbul

In Charlottesville, there is nothing remotely cosmopolitan as in Istanbul and Cairo, so I have invented my own Cafe world in the couple of cafes scattered across the Downtown Mall. Although the Mudhouse Cafe may not compare to Naguib Mahfouz's cafe, I find it to be my own literary inspiration, at least in my own way.

Audioblogging in my Mothertongue

2009-03-19T20:46:00.004-04:00

I have recently discovered a splendid new medium of expression other than blogging. It is called Audio Blogging. Essentially what it is is an online radio station whereby the anchor, who is the blogger, expresses his thoughts and ideas in vocal words. Once accessing one of the Egyptian audio blogs, I was so elated to hear a monologue in Egyptian Arabic for a good five minutes. It had been a long long time since I had had exposure to listening to my mother tongue for so longer. Having to watch corny Egyptian movies or stand those mind-numbing pop songs drives me mad, but this indie, modern, and cosmopolitan means of audio blogging is quite entertaining. One of the audio blogs, Teet Radio, talks about some issues of Egyptian daily life. It is as if I am sitting in downtown Cairo eavesdropping on mindlessly conversing about what they think may be intellectual.

For the past ten minutes I have been listening to some blogger talk about his strange habit of log-keeping, whereby he takes note of all his observations during the day. He keeps prolific notes in notebook, which is secretive but he enjoys recording the behavior of society and people. Although he doesn't enjoy this arduous task, he reviews the events that occurs and observes the consistency of the different people over days. He then talks about his tattoo, which is Chinese character that reads "Truth," which pains him when he finds an inconsistency in his log.

To some extent, I used to do this daily logging in my diaries...But I think I go beyond that by collecting every memory, be it vintage photos, plane/bus/concert tickets, stamps, or any artifact that brings back any memory. I can't wait to return to Cairo to record my experiences there.

Strange, I know, but I take interest in these strange, indie, unconventional kinds of stories, that is so out of the norm. But what is enjoyable is that they play some nice jazz tunes in the background that goes so well with the issue.

Its a good relief to hearing some Egyptian Arabic, but once I feel getting nostalgic and as if I am in Egypt once more, I have to turn of the radio to avoid feeling homesick...

Consolations for Tenaciousness

2009-03-19T19:15:00.005-04:00

Lately, I have been feeling a bit antsy and tenacious. After doing some introspection, I realized that the feeling of letting go can cause anxiety in one's life. Detatchment is an aspect of life that is universily faced, but it is a matter of seeing it as an opportunity rather than a curse that will elate you.

Despite it hurts to let go of whatever we may have become so attached to, detatchment gives us nothing more than the opportunity for renewal. Detatchment is a vast mystical topic, but if there is a thing or two that I have learned, it how to endeavor to cope with detatchment. I know that someone very dear to me is going through an experiencing involving detatchment, this time to a place he might consider to be home and in a career that is characterised by honor, prestige, esteem, and eminance.

I guess I can relate, even if it is to a very small extent...

I truly regret that I have lived the past couple of years here in Charlottesville in melancholy. Lately, I desire to live in no place but here. I no longer have the desire to live the big city life that I had always dreamt of, but have come to really love the small town life that it had taken me so long to get used to. At the same time, it is no use looking back and regretting my past impressions. All one can do is flip to a new page and renew their life. This semester at UVa has been my most blissful so far, simply because I have shaped my perception to be a happy one. You are the only person can determine your happiness.

Well, after feeling so settled and happy here in Charlottesville, I feel like life is changing all over again. For starters, I am moving out of the room I have lived in for the past two years and which has become a part of me. I will definitely miss this view that has I have woken up to every morning. Moving into an apartment will be a mature step, a transitional step in life, but I am apprehensive to change.

The view from my window

The apprehension to change stems to other parts in my life as well. What lies before me after UVa? After four years of hard work, where will life throw me next? Will I be able to fulfill the expectations bestowed upon me? These are some questions that circulate in my mind every now and then. I know that I am not the only one going through transitions lately, so I can definitely relate to the apprehensive reaction to feeling that something that seems like it would last forever is finally coming to an end. It is so true that one never really appreciates the value of what is in his hands until it is gone!

I know that my case of uncertainly and letting go is a trivial one in comparison to others, but if there is one thing I have learned from my past experiences is that the wind of life takes away everything. Why do we feel so apprehensive then if we are anticipating the wind?

It is because we are not as hasty as the wind, but we must learn to detatch ourselves from any selfless desires and allow the wind, or shall I say the hand of God, to guide us. We must completely submit and let go.

We must adapt to change. Every day is a new day, never affected by the former, and not necessarily a continuous thread leading to the next. Every sunrise gives us a new opportunity. Oh, how mundane and monotonous life would be if every new day was like the previous.

The more tenacious we fell attached towards objects, the more the pain we feel when it is time to let go. Although I may have fallen in love with certain aesthetic aspects of life here, it is only then that the wind blows its hardest; this is when we must be prepared to let it all go.

At the same time, He is never unjust. Whatever is taken away from you is returned to you in some other shape or form. The tide of the sea returns to shore everything it once gulped up. Isn't that what karma is all about? Just keep in mind that no effort goes to waste. The seeds you have sowed through the work you have invested will one day become ripe fruits that you will someday reap as the booty of your labor.

I hope that these consolations can ease the pain of tenaciousness. Its never easy to let go at first, but once you surrender yourself to detatchment, life will play before you like a movie, and the smile on your face will never fade away...

I feel like writing...

2009-03-19T19:08:00.002-04:00

Dear Reader,

I can attest to the feeling of deprivation when I feel one. It is the mutual craving for writing and reading that drives me to write despite life outside this blog is bugging me with so much nuisances. I have so much to write about; so much that I have bottled up in my mind. It is about time to let it all out.

It is quite shocking to look back and see that the past two weeks since my return from Istanbul have just flown by. I have been meaning to recap on my travels in the city I have come to love so much. Since my return, I have also experienced various emotions that I have put me on the brim of explosion when not being able to write.

As usual, I prepare some mezza of dates, almonds, cashew nuts, and raisins along with a good cup of green tea to prepare me to write about all that has been circulating in my mind. I sincerely hope that the accompanying entries are not burdensome, but are a true testimony of the emotions that have been airlocked for the past couple of days.

Enjoy:)

Drawing 101

2009-03-18T16:17:00.004-04:00

Why is it that I am able to express myself so profoundly verbally, yet lack the means to do so visually? Even though I am a great admirer of the arts, why have I never conjured the courage to endeavor to emulate them? Could that traumatic experience of being told that I am a "blind" when it comes to art by my art teacher in 9th grade have discouraged me for the rest of my life?

These were the questions for which I was seeking answers for when I decided to enroll in the Univerity's Drawing in the Museum class offered by the UVa Art Museum. Whether it had been witnessing someone doodle in class or observe someone contemplate while attempt to copy a masterpiece in a gallery, I have always envied those with the talent of drawing. Yet, I was always convinced that drawing is not a natural talent and can be learned. Why? Because, just like learning to walk and talk, it is a natural talent that we must strive to realize and tap into its potential. We are artists in every aspect of our lives. From getting up in the morning and mixing and matching our clothes to the way we design the interior of our room. It is for this reason that all that is needed to actually realize one's potential when it comes to drawing, painting, or any form of visual art is practice! The potential is in us... In my case, I just gave up way to early and never gave myself a chance.

As I rushed into the Art Museum around 1pm, unpunctual as usual, I was excited to see that the gathering of students signed up for this course were a mere dozen, all of which had minimal art experience. Surprisingly, they were all souls looking for answers to the questions that I was also seeking. One of them found the need and craving to create. The other wanted to revive a childhood favorite pastime. This was reassuring because I would have felt quite intimidated if there would have been some advanced artists.

Just like me, this group were great admirers of the arts. We compared notes on what schools of arts we enjoyed. Everyone but me enjoyed realism. For some strange reason, I felt inclined to side with the abstraction school. Abstraction induces more creativity, whereby the artist doesn't merely give you the answer to your questions, but allows you to interpret them according to your own temperament and experiences.

The instructor, Fenella, walked us through the syllabus, whereby she would take us on a journey through the arts. We would experiment with different techniques; everything from cubism to impressionism. I had always read and admired these art forms, but never imagined myself actually using them for my own productions. Fenella also informed us that the classes objective was the process of creating art and not the end-product. We would focus on emulating the artwork in the museum a

To give us a taste of what we would play around with, Fenella took on a tour of the Picasso/Matisse exhibit on display; I know, I never would have imagined that UVA would ever host the masterpieces of these two art giants. We viewed various portraits, analyzed their proportions, determined what features the artist was emphasizing, etc... Fenella was trying to make us through the art through the eyes of its creator. How much of the art was realism? How much of it was the artist's imagination and creativity?

Upon returning to the art studio, we were told to sit opposite of another student. For the next two hours, we would carry out the daunting task of attempting to draw him/her without making them look absolutely horrible. I was reasured that Elyss, my drawing partner would forgive me. The most important aspect of actually drawing our partner's portrait was to get the proportions right. It is for this reason that Fenella advised us to break down the process of drawing a face into steps. Behind the art was the mathematics. We were required to divide the face using axes lines, leveling the eyes, nose, chin, mouth. There were definitely mathematical techniques to all of this and it was a matter of getting the bigger picture correct before pursuing the rest.

One also had to establish a personal relationship with the subject of the portrait. While drawing, Elyss and I conversed about our backgrounds and origins. This aided us in familiarizing ourselves with one another and to formulate a perception of the other person. This definitely influenced my drawing of her.

It was a very unusual experience because there would be times where we would need to make eye contact for a minute straight without uttering a word in order to capture every detail of the pupil: the glare, the complexity, the intimacy, the depth... By the mere expression on her face, my mind wandered into wondering about her past, what she was thinking at that moment, what are her future plans, was she thinking what was running through my own mind? It was a very absurd, yet intriguing experience.

Once my painting of her began to look ugly in my eyes, I began worrying that she might be disappointed; I began losing confidence. It was at this point that Fenella revealed the drawing to Elyss. The latter was more than forgiving with me, but Fenella gave me some pointers to improve my painting. I needed to add more volume to the lush black hair, I needed to capture the sorrow shades around her eyes, capture the curves of her slim long nose. I felt that Fenella was passing her artistic eyes on to me.

At the point when I felt that my drawing was complete, there was a small modification that I sought. This would lead me to changing a whole aspect of her face, like completely erasing the nose and starting all over again. Regardless of the setbacks I faces, I was learning by doing it myself. I experimented with shading, 3D illusions, details, etc... I was gaining more confidence, rushing to make alterations before they slipped my mind. It was like writing for me; I sought perfection, at least in my eyes.

Portrait of Elyss

Realistically, I understand that my drawing of Elyss is far from complete, but it opened my heart to this new passion of drawing. I stuck around after the session to discuss some techniques about proportions with Fenella. Although I was looking forward to viewing the Picasso/Matisse gallery more carefully after the class, I felt the sudden urge to write, so I run home to pen the thoughts your read before your eyes...It amuses me how one passion stimulates the other.

Submerging Into Istanbul

2009-02-28T12:20:00.007-05:00

Upon landing in Istanbul this morning, I wasn't looking forward to going to Ak Merkez or Istanbul's consumerist culture hotspots; I purposely wanted to submerge into the deep abyss of Istanbul's rich Ottoman history. It is for this reason that I packed my camera, hopped in the car, and cruised around the city around sunset. The city was wrapped in colorful banners for the upcoming municipal elections. For those and Istanbul's sunset skyline, I used color photography to reflect the modernism. For Sinan's brilliant gothic architecture, black and white photography would only suffice. I wished to capture my memories, through my eyes. Why B&W...well because these monuments belong to another era, I wished to place them in their respective epoch.

I want to preserve their ancientness. What I couldn't resist shooting in color was the sunset by the Sulmaniye mosque as the sun was subsiding by its side.

Also, it was worth the stop on the fly over for a glimpse of the fishers conglomerating in the cold over their passion of fishing.

Upon reaching my destination of the Egyptian Bazaar, I entered into a plethora of exoticism with the spice markets, mosaic lanterns, jewelry sellers. It was just like being in Khan El Khalili with people shouting even in Egyptian Arabic. This exactly what I wanted to do upon my arrival. This is just the beginning of my discovery of backstreet Istanbul...