In loving memory of Samar Al Ansari: a loving daughter, wonderful sister, and great friend.
You are welcome to post your comments directly on the blog. If you wish to contribute to this blog, you can contact Um Samar by email: email@example.com or
send her a message on Twitter: @UmSamar
I found this on a blog and thought I'd share it with everyone. http://fazandteow.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_fazandteow_archive.html
Sunday, September 17
Dedicated to the memory of Samar Al Ansari (1988-2006). I never knew you, but your brother is a good man who spoke only the best of you. You blessed many in your life with your presence, and with your passing you reminded me of the frailty of life, and what worth you added to your brief stay here through your good works.
I pray for the grief of your loved ones to be alleviated, and that you have found your peace.
يا ليت الموت يضرب ضربته ويمضي لكنه يسطو ويخلف الحسرات والعبر فيخطف أغلى غوالينا ويسرف منا النفيس من الدرر حاجبا ً عنا أحلى الوجوه ضاحكاً يهزأ من ضعف البشر ولكن هبة الله للإنسان أن نقدر على صد القدر سنصرع الموت ونمضي مع روح التي جسمها إندثر فطيف خيالها سيبقى لنا دوماً في القلب في أبها الصور فلا يسلب الدهر منا طيف سمـر التي في قلبنا أسمها إحتفر
If I was tragically taken away from my home, I would like to take all my possessions with me, but there is a limit to only three. It was a hard decision to think of the three possessions I cherish the most, but I know I made the right decision. A picture of my family and friends, my journal, and a Cartier pen my mother got me help me relive my past.
The most important item that I could possibly take with me is a picture of my family and friends. Most importantly, I want to remember the people I love most in the world. To glance at each of them and remember how they all touched me in their own special way is such an amazing thing, and to remember each of them with their own special qualities. For instance, when glancing at my mother, memories of her strong personality will go through me. Also, when looking at Latifa Al-Maraj, my best friend, I will remember how good of a friend she was. Another reason to take this picture is to remember all the glorious and truly unique times I spent with all of my friends and family members. “Hanging out” with Latifa and the rest of my friends was so much fun, we used to watch movies, talk, go out, and etc. Spending time with my family always filled me with joy. I will always cherish those long talks I would have with my sister without a single worry in my head and our family vacations, which were so fun. The most person who would help me with my problems was Laila, she was always my resort, because she truly gave good advice and wasn’t at all biased. All my family and friends helped me through thick and thin and that is the final reason why this picture is one of the three items. It is such a privilege to look at a picture and remember all that; to relive all those precious memories.
Coming along with me also is my trustworthy journal. You don’t know how nice it is to spill your guts on paper and not hear someone talking back to you, criticizing you, or giving you bad advice. Living without my cherished journal is an impossibility. I want to be able to record all my thoughts and feelings onto those blank pages. Even if I was in the most exciting place on God’s green earth, no doubt about it, I would feel lonely. So what better way than to let out all my emotions as creatively as possible. Being away from my loved ones would make me feel so bad. Instead of bottling up my feelings, I will write everything down. On my journey, I will see strange or common things and jot them all down in my journal. And if I ever return to my friends and family, I could read to them in detail what I saw. In that unknown place, feelings of boredom and loneliness will bestow upon me. Reading over my past entries and reflecting on my past life will help me remember the good old times, and it will relieve my boredom. Reading about the most significant memories of my teenage life will make me either laugh or cry. Who knows, maybe my journal would be published later on and would be called “Samar’s Great Adventure”?
What will be used to write with in my journal you ask? The answer is simple. A Cartier pen my mother gave me when I passed the seventh grade with an A average. It is a beautiful gold plated pen which is one of my most cherished belongings. It is one of my three possessions for an obvious reason… TO WRITE WITH! The ink will run out for sure, but I will write lightly but still clearly so that the ink doesn’t run out quickly. Even if the ink does run out, at least I would have had time to write. The pen could be used as a survival technique; its sharp tip could be used to cut through objects. The last reason for bringing this pen along is to remember the day my mother gave it to me. I went upstairs to my room the second night of the summer vacation, and saw a small wrapped gift on my bed. I opened it up and found a beautiful Cartier pen, and a card next to it saying: “I’m so proud of you, hope you have another great school year.” An unforgettable feeling came over me as I read that, and writing with that pen always brings back that glorious feeling.
The mere thought of being taken away from my home is frightening. I would never know how to live without my friends and family members. These three items help me relive my past. Loneliness will take over me wherever life takes me without my family and friends, but knowing I have these three items really helps ease the pain, and helps me remember the wonderful life I used to have.
Home is not a place but a feeling. Home is where I feel myself, and where I do not fake smiles or laughs. Home is where I say and do what pleases me without the fear of anyone judging me. Home is where I can start a discussion without worrying about what others may think of what I do or say. Home is when I tell what I feel and what I think of without excluding anything and feeling comfortable. Home is sitting in my room listening to music and writing in my journal. I write what's on my mind, without a judgmental voice whispering in my ear. At home, I reveal myself entirely without hiding behind barriers. At home, I am as transparent as a glass of water. To get to know me, and I mean real me, you must provide a home for me first.
سأحكي اليوم عن امرأة عظيمة في حياتي ومهمة، هي جدتي. الكل يحكي عن الناس الذين اخترعوا أشياء أوأشخاص مهمين، ولكنني أنا سأتحدث عن ربة بيت أثرت فى حياة حفيدتها من فرط كرمها وحنانها
ولدت جدتي فى نابلس فى فلسطين وسكنت هناك، عندما بلغت الخامسة عشر من عمرها خرجت من المدرسة قبل أن تأخذ شهادتها وتزوجت من جدي الذي بلغ 30 عاماً فى ذلك الوقت. أنجبت جدتي خمسة أولاد، ثلاث بنات وولدين، وكانت أمي الوسطى. لم تسكن جدتي فى مكان محدد فقد تنقلت من بلد لبلد وذهبت من فلسطين الى لبنان و الى عمان والى الرياض فى السعودية. لم تعرف معنى المنزل، لأنها أضاعت منزلها، أضاعت فلسطين، وفارقت أهلها للمرة الأولى إلى مكان غريب عليها. ربت جدتي أولادها بشكل ممتاز
الآن تعيش جدتي فى الرياض، السعودية. وكل سنة تذهب الى عمان، الأردن وتجلس هناك بضعة أشهر، بين فترة وفترة نذهب لها أو هي تجيء إلينا، وأتحدث إليها عن كل شيء يخطر ببالي لآخذ رأيها عن الأشياء التى سأفعلها والأشياء التى لا أفعلها. نعم أنها لم تكمل دراستها الثانوية، ولكن هي من أذكى الأشخاص الذين أعرفهم وهي مليئة بالمعلومات المفيدة
جدتي، إفتكار عزالدين كمال تلاعبني كل يوم بعد أن تشرب القهوة التركية اليومية. تارةً نلعب برجيس وتارة أخرى أنا أتمدد وأحط رأسي على حضنها وهي تلعب فى شعري وتقول لي عن أيام زمان. وعندما أفارقها أتصل بها لكي أسمع صوتها الحلو ولكي يذهب الحزن عن إحساسي لفراقها. اليوم فى السيارة سمعت جدتي أغنية قديمة من ايام زمان وبدأت تغني، فامتلأ وجهها بالفرح، وتسألت هل هي مشتاقة لأيام زمان؟ أكيد .. ولكن لماذا؟ الكل يعرفها بعائلتي بتيته الموز، لأنها دائماً تطعمنا الموز لكي لا نجوع. عندما لا نريد أن نفعل شيء إليها، دائماً تقول حلفت ونحس باننا مجبرين، ونفعل ما تريد. فأنا دائماً أتسأل، هل هي حلفت أو فقط تقول هذا؟ جدتي دائماً تتحدث عن فلسطين وأكثر شيء أريد أن أفعله فى الدنيا أن أحررها لها وأعطيها إياها كهدية، ولكني أعرف أن هذا لن يحصل
جدتي، أنت من أكثر الناس الذين أحبهم، فأنت امرأة فريدة، شكراً لكل ما فعلتيه ولم تفعليه، شكراً للهدايا، وشكراً لأنك جدتي وأشكر الله على هذه النعمة. ماذا سأقول للناس عنك: هل أقول جدتي عندها رغبة أن دائماً تجدل شعري، أو أقول جدتي أحضرت لي جبنة جدولة من السفر معاها يوم قبل ما تسافر. لا، لن أفعل هذا، سأقول أنا سمر الأنصاري عندي أفضل جدة فى العالم، أفتكار عزالدين كمال، امرأة بسيطة ولكنها مثقفة ومتمكنة في أشياء كثيرة ...والسلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته
An oral history is a true event that has happened to your family that is passed down through word of mouth. Some can be heroic and talk about how an ancestor fought in a war, another can be about love and talk about how your grandparents met, and another can also teach us lessons such as mine today. This event took place a while ago, with its main character as my grandfather’s brother Dr. Subhi Hamadeh, or my great uncle, may god bless his soul. This event happened in Lebanon. It is a simple incident that has taught me a valuable lesson. Subhi Hamadeh used to go to the barber every once in a while to cut his hair or get a shave. The barbershop he went to recently got a new employee, and one time Subhi went, and the new employee cut his hair and constantly covered his face with a towel. Subhi thought this was all part of the new employee’s style, as would anyone else. After Subhi was done he went pay, but he didn’t find his wallet! He thought that he left it at home, but when he went home he didn’t find it! Then he told his wife what had happened at the barbershop. She laughed and said, “Don’t be foolish, he stole your wallet, and kept on putting the towel on your face so that you don’t see him”. My great Uncle Subhi had learned a valuable lesson, and I have learned one too; always be cautious. His wife was amazed with his naivety that every time he would do something of that manner, she would say, “What? Did they cover your face with a towel again?” Now, if an incident like this happens in my family, she says it, and we understand her. My Great Uncle Subhi has taught everyone a valuable lesion, possibly without realizing it. I think I will laugh every time I hear this story, and maybe someday I will be telling my own children this true story that happened to their mother’s Great Uncle Subhi.