Lost In The Wilderness: Ragged Mountain

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

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

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

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,

Z

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

Z

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!

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

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…

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….