Rays & Shadows

cruel honesty

2007-02-05T01:03:00.000+02:00

They say: "Honesty sets your free". Unfortunately, this statement could never be further from the truth that I know. Honesty can very well imprison, paralyze, and burn you.. without receiving anything you wish for in return, without getting any empathy from others, and without even anyone noticing your affliction..

One of life ironies..

2007-02-05T00:46:00.000+02:00

Life is usually full of ironic moments. But it gets more bitter when this irony turns into heartache. I understand that one could feel hurt when someone hurts them. Clear, logical, and realistic. But is it comprehensible that you hurt someone.. and you find yourself feeling more hurt!!

جزء آخر من واحة الغروب لبهاء طاهر

2007-02-04T22:03:00.000+02:00

(على لسان كاثرين)

حانت مني نظرة إلى الأطفال الذين يلعبون. كم هي مريحة الطفولة! كم هو مريح الجهل! كان الأولاد يحفرون في الأرض قنوات يصبون فيها ماء و يضعون على حوافها غصونا صغيرة خضراء ليرووا بساتين تشبه بساتين آبائهم. ولكن أهم شىء أنهم لا ينسون أيضا بناء أسوار رملية عالية حول بساتينهم. يتعلمون الأسوار منذ الصغر. اما البنات فيلعبن على حدة بعيدا عن الصبيان. أسوار أخرى

لكني أحب منظر البنات الصغيرات و هن يلعبن. لا أرى الألوان البهيجة إلا في ملابسهن المزركشة الطويلة الأكمام. وددت أيضا لو أعرف كيف يجدلن للبنات هذه الضفائر الرفيعة الطويلة التي تحيط برءوسهن مثل تيجان مزخرفة. لكن من سيدلني؟ أمهاتهن؟ لا يسرن في الطريق إلا جماعات ذاهبات إلى مآتم أو أفراح و لا يظهر منهن غير عباءات زرقاء واسعة. كتل مصمتة تتحرك فى بطء و صمت مثل نذير قادم، فأود أن أصرخ حين أراها: أين البشر؟

فوق هاتيك الربى

2007-01-31T01:42:00.001+02:00

This is a song by Fairouz that I've been listening to lately a lot at night.. before I go to sleep. It soothes me a lot and it puts me in a very calm and light mood.. the voice, the music, and the images that the words draw peacefully..

Is it a wish? A prophecy? Or maybe it is a mysterious inexplicable dream...

فوق هاتيك الربى - زكي ناصيف

أناجيك في سري و في القلب حسرة

ٌ و في العين دمع دافق غزير

و فوق الربى حيث التقيتك خاشعا

تصلي لمن فوق القدير قدير

سعيت إليك و في الفؤاد تهيب

لصمتك هذا و احترام كبير

فتبت إلى ربي الذي قال واعدا

ُ على المؤمنين كل عسير يسير

فوق هاتيك الربى في صفاء مقمر

ردد الليل ندائي يا حبيبي أنت لي

فوق هاتيك الربى في نعيم مسكر

رجع الطير غنائي لحنين الجدول

أنت لي أحلى أماني و أحلام شبابي

أنت لي شوق البوادي للنسيمات العِذاب
ِِِأنت لي غمر الندى في الربيع المزهر

أنت لي فيض الهناء و صفاء المنهل

Bleu. Blanc. Rouge.

2007-01-27T00:53:00.000+02:00

I watched this French trilogy for the first time almost 4 years ago, and since then I consider it to be one of my favorite works. I watched the first movie again today, and I found myself following it with the second and third movies in one sitting. The titles of the movies are based on the colors of the French flag, Blue, White, and Red, to represent the French revolution motto: Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity (liberté, égalité, fraternité). The common thing among the 3 movies is that they revolve around characters who are trying to deal with their personal losses and tragedies. The movies are directed and co-written by the talented Polish director Krzysztof Kieslowski (The Decalogue; The Double Life of Veronique).

BLEU

This one is starring the beautiful actress Juliette Binoche. The movie starts with a car accident, in which Julie (Juliette Binoche) loses her husband - a celebrated European composer - and her daughter. Due to her major loss, she starts to isolate herself from her life commitments, surroundings, and personal belongings, and even from love, believing that this total withdrawal from life would heal her heart and make her live peacefully and liberate her from the past. A line in the movie that perfectly expresses her state at that time: "I want no belongings, no memories, no friends, no love. Those are all traps." However, as her life progresses, her attitude starts to shift. Only through those people from her past and present life who care about her reaching out to her, facing her husband's past, completing the composition that he left and around which the movie and soundtrack revolve ("Song for the Unification of Europe"), and welcoming love again in her life, she could actually recover her life again. Only be exposing herself to her past memories and current obligations can she redeem herself.

BLANC

The sweet looking French actress Julie Delby (Before Sunrie; Before Sunset) is starring in this drama-with-a-tang-of-black-sarcastic-comedy, along with the Polish actor Zbigniew Zamachowski. The story starts with a hearing in the courtroom that Dominique (Julie Delby) resorted to in order to get divorced from her Polish husband Karol on grounds of his sexual impotence. During the hearing, and afterwards, Karol was severely humiliated. He even became a metro beggar. However, he still loved Dominique. He decided to get back to Poland and start a new life there. Since his passport was lost, the only way to get back is to get himself into his friend's bag! The powerful and satirical scene of the bag on the airport conveyor adds to Karol's humiliation. After he went back and after he built his life anew in Warsaw and got wealthy as well, he started to think of a way to get even with his ex-wife (thus, Equality) and revenge his humiliation. Ironically, capitalist post-Communism Poland allows Karol to regain his dignity and potency!

ROUGE

Valentine (Irene Jacob) is a young model who's living on her own in Geneva, while her boyfriend is staying in London. Their regular phone calls show how jealous and obsessive he is. One night, while Valentine is driving her car, she ran over a dog. She examined the dog and through a tag around its neck, she identified to whom it belongs to. Later on, she goes to the dog's owner in order to return it, and she gets to meet a retired judge who withdrew from life and whose favorite pastime is to eavesdrop on his neighbors' phone calls. As she gets to know this man and through their long conversations, she discovers a lot of astonishing links between his past and her destiny. Although she strikes up an accidental bonding friendship with the retired judge (Fraternity), their relationship could also be seen as a non-declared passing platonic love relationship, despite the big age difference and all their differences. A very witty and intriguing story, and considered by many to be the masterpiece of the trilogy!

Trivia & Observations

While the afore-mentioned principles are the basis of the French revolution, we find that two of the movies are not even shot in France (Blanc mostly shot in Warsaw, and Rouge in Geneva). It goes even further than this as most of the dialog in Blanc is Polish. This could give and emphasize a sense of universality of those principles. Furthermore, the three stories show the need for human touches and for connecting and interacting with the surrounding people in our lives.

There are some common scenes and crossover shots among the three movies. For instance, in Bleu, when Julie goes to the court to look for her dead husband's mistress, she tries to get into the courtroom, but she couldn't. But when she opens the door for a second, we hear a man defending himself. In Blanc, it turned out that this man who was defending himself in the court is no one but Karol, Dominique's wife. The two stories crossed paths at this incident.

Also, in Rouge, there are seven people who survived a sinking boat, among them are the six main characters of the trilogy. So they're sharing a common destiny, which could imply the saving and progress of humankind through following the principles mentioned earlier. This scene comes a few minutes after another scene in which the judge's dog had seven newborn puppies.

Another scene that appeared a few times in all the movies is for an old crooked woman who can barely walk, reaching a garbage bin to throw an old bottle, which could signify people who try to get rid of their past tragedies. In Bleu, Julie didn't see her as she was daydreaming while sitting in a park. In Blanc, Karol saw the old woman, but he smiled at her cruelly. But only in Rouge that Valentine goes to the old woman to help her throw the bottle, emphasizing the principle of fraternity. The ending of the the three movies is also common, in which the main characters are crying and having tears running on their faces.

The soundtracks of the movies are so intriguing. While in Bleu the music is composed with an orchestratic flavor since the main character is a musician and a widow of an applauded composer, in Blanc there's a Tango theme, and a Bulero theme in Rouge. While the Tango dance is based on the male leading the female, this could be decrypted by the finale of Blanc where Karol has finally had his revenge over Dominique and he's now leading a free life, while his ex-wife is arrested.

While each of these movies can be seen on its own without the others and without feeling there's something missing, seeing them all together forms a beautiful image that is considered an artistic masterpiece in the European cinema through its history.

جزء من واحة الغروب لبهاء طاهر

2007-01-23T00:04:00.000+02:00

(على لسان كاثرين)

قرأت كل شيء عن هذه الصحراء و عن سيوة قبل أن نبدأ الرحلة - كل ما جلبته معي من أيرلندا من كتب الرحالة و المؤرخين و كل ما استطعت أن أجده في مكتبات القاهرة. اعتقدت أني لن أكتشف جديدا و لن يدهشني شيء. درست كل المكتوب عن الطريق و عن الآبار و الكثبان و العواصف، لكن الكتب لم تحدثني عن الصحراء الحقيقية. لم أعرف منها كيف تتغير الألوان فوق بحر الرمال عبر ساعات النهار، و لا وجدت فيها كلمة عن تحرك الظلال و هي ترسم سقفا رماديا نحيلا على قمة تل أصفر أو تفتح بوابة داكنة في وسطه، و لم تعلمني كيف تنعكس السحب العالية الصغيرة فوق الكثبان أسرابا مسرعة من طيور رمادية، و لم تتحدث عن الفجر، بالذات الفجر، و هو يتحول من خيط رقيق أبيض في الأفق إلى شفق أحمر يزيح الظلمة ببطء إلى أن يتوهج الرمل بحرا ذهبيا مع أول شعاع للشمس و ساعتها تنفذ إلى أنفي رائحة لم أعرفها في حياتي أبدا من اختلاط ندى الفجر بالشمس بالرمل، رائحة شهوانية لا تنفذ الى أنفي وحده بل تتفتح لها مسام جسمي كله فأكاد لولا الخجل، لولا أصوات رجال القافلة الذين استيقظوا خارج الخيمة، أن أمسك بيد محمود و أقول تعال هنا بسرعة! فوق هذا الرمل المبتل

The Crusades through Arab Eyes

2007-01-13T16:21:00.000+02:00

I read this book and I joined its book discussion. I then wrote this book review and it was published in issue #5 of The Art Review (December 2006). It is a really enjoyable historical treat.. especially that it is written by Amin Maalouf, who is in my humble opinion one of the most talented writers in our contemporary times.

*~*~*
The Crusades through Arab Eyes

Amin Maalouf, winner of France's Prix Goncourt in 1993, is very well known for his captivating and spellbinding portrayal of history and fiction, with no lack of historical accuracy. Samarkand and Leo the African are two books written by him that have gained a lot of readership and enjoyed sound reputation.

The Crusades through Arab Eyes starts with the first Crusade in 1096 – when most of the Islamic empire was under the Seljuks ruling – and ends in 1291 when the Franj (Occidentals) finally left the region. During these two centuries, a lot of goings-on and episodes have taken place, and they have shaped the psyches of the people living in this region till this very day.

We cannot talk about the Crusades without focusing on religion. While the Crusades were endorsed by the Church in the territories of the Franj, how the Franj actually behaved when they captured many cities had nothing to do with Christian teachings. The book mentions the many instances when the Franj captured a city, and how they plundered it and massacred the local population, regardless of whether the victims were women, old men or children. Frankish armies captured Arab soldiers and beheaded them, despite the fact that their actions violated many of the treaties and truces they signed with the Arabs. Incidents of cannibalism had also taken place. On the contrary, when Arabs captured soldiers and citizens, they did not harm them, and they even set them free in return for collecting a ransom from the Franj (an act that was very common at the time), just like Salah el-Din did when he reconquered Jerusalem. He even set many of them free without requesting a ransom when he was requested by the Franj to do so; an act of generosity, which bestowed respect on Salah el-Din among the Franj as being a man of honor.

In another scene, religious freedom had been unconditionally enjoyed by the Arab Christians and Jews during Muslim rule, while, as Maalouf mentions, Muslims did not enjoy the same freedom during the Franj occupation. In fact, it was common for a Franj to attack a praying Muslim by turning him towards the east, away from Mecca – an incident that was recorded by the Arab chronicler and emir Usamah Ibn Munqidh as it happened to him inside al-Aqsa mosque. Even Arab Christians were not spared the wrath of the Franj.

The book doesn’t only touch on the Islamic-Christian conflicts, but it also acknowledges the internal conflicts among the Muslims, such as the Sunni and Shi’ite conflict. While the Muslim emirs and leaders at the time were resisting the Franj, the Assassins – Hashshasheen – (a sect of Ismailia Shi’a) considered this a danger since it could strengthen the Sunnis, which would subject them to mounting Sunni persecution. In many incidents the Assassins assisted the Franj against the Seljuks.

This book is a masterpiece that should be read and considered carefully as it holds within its folds a great amount of historical knowledge that is skillfully written and presented, and which imprints and lessons resemble, and transcend to, the current times.

Baudelaire & the power of words

2007-01-13T06:24:00.000+02:00

A few days ago I watched some bits of an interview with Farouk Gouida - a very well known Egyptian poet - on Al-3aashera Masa'an (العاشرة مساءا). He was a close friend to Muhammad Abdel-Wahab, the late legend who is a cornerstone in the Egyptian music-making. In the interview, Farouk mentioned a discussion that went on between himself and Abdel-Wahab when they were debating which form of art is the most expansive and most difficult to master. Abdel-Wahab believed the form of art that fulfills this criteria is poetry, since it can include most of other forms such as music, painting ...etc.

Early this morning I was reading an interview with the novelist-dentist Dr. Alaa Al-Aswany in an old issue of The Art Review (issue #3). When asked about the people who influenced his writing style, Alaa mentioned many old and contemporary, international and local names of writers. One of the writers he mentioned was Charles Baudelaire, and he described him as: "the one who taught me how to draw a portrait with words rather than using paints and brushes".

I searched for works by Baudelaire in order to see how he wrote descriptions in his poetry. I found many works I liked, but one of them that I thought would be an example of how Alaa described him is the poem called Cats. I included the poem here..

* * *

They are alike, prim scholar and perfervid lover:
When comes the season of decay, they both decide
Upon sweet, husky cats to be the household pride;
Cats choose, like them, to sit, and like them, shudder

Like partisans of carnal dalliance and science,
They search for silence and the shadowings of dread;
Hell well might harness them as horses for the dead,
If it could bend their native proudness in compliance

In reverie they emulate the noble mood
Of giant sphinxes stretched in depths of solitude
Who seem to slumber in a never-ending dream;

Within their fertile loins a sparkling magic lies;
Finer than any sand are dusts of gold that gleam,
Vague starpoints, in the mystic iris of their eyes

*~*~*
Another poem that I liked by Baudelaire is the one called Afternoon Song..

Though your wicked eyebrows call
Your nature into question
(Unangelic's their suggestion,
Witch whose eyes enthrall)

I adore you still
O foolish terrible emotion
Kneeling in devotion
As a priest to his idol will

Your undone braids conceal
Desert, forest scents,
In your exotic countenance
Lie secrets unrevealed

Over your flesh perfume drifts
Like incense 'round a censor,
Tantalizing dispenser
Of evening's ardent gifts

No Philtres could compete
With your potent idleness:
You've mastered the caress
That raises dead me to their feet

Your hips themselves are romanced
By your back and by your breasts:
By your languid dalliance

Now and then, your appetite's
Uncontrolled, unassuaged:
Mysteriously enraged,
You kiss me and you bite

Dark one, I am torn
By your savage ways,
Then, soft as the moon, your gaze
Sees my tortured heart reborn

Beneath your satin shoe,
Beneath your charming silken foot
My greatest joy I put
My genius and destiny, too

You bring my spirit back,
Bringer of the light
Exploding color in the night
Of my Siberia so black

Longing

2007-01-06T14:03:00.000+02:00

I wrote this poem back in September 2003..

*~*~*

Longing

Longing for a prima donna's untamed hair
Flying over my shoulders and sleeping between my fingertips
Reciting a love poem for how much she loves to be confined in me
Listening to my heartbeats repeating her name

Longing for our long talks
About those faithful, and those not
Difference in accents and pronounce
When we say 'small' or 'boat'

Her name is full of light, guidance, and bravery
For those who lack any
Her logic is unbeatable
When establishing the thoughts of intimacy, love, and faith
Crashing the non-existing laws of each to null

Longing for her fingers mingling with mine in peace
Telling them lovely bedtime stories with happy endings
With my lips kissing her forehead and palms
To narrate my adoration to her presence

Longing for the look in her eyes
To see all the colors that nature has ever exhibited
For the kiss on her lips
When mine and hers promise each other not to be parted

Longing to sing her our song
While having the most beautiful walk of my life
For her way when saying pathetic things like 'good morning'
As if announcing the most important speech in history to free humankind

Longing to dance with her again
And hold her hands like a holy book
Swaying gently left and right
Praying that the moment never passes us

Longing to read Jubran for her ears
Speaking of marriage and its forever-young child named 'happiness'
Of the heavenly wine that God pours
From a man's eyes to a woman's heart

Longing for her chest caressing my back
Her alabaster arms cuddling my neck
With her eyes peeking over my shoulders
Showing me the way ahead

Seven wonders.. seven sins.. seven days
My favourite number keeps flashing everywhere
And today it is reaffirmed

All what's left now is irreplaceable memories,
Gifted treasures helping me discover my own treasure,
And an eight-month picture of the most beautiful angel
That God has ever sent to me

Longing to kill this longing
And be with her again.. and again

September 11, 2003

melancholic

2006-12-28T00:50:00.000+02:00

Whenever I feel sad, somber, or out of tune.. or whenever I'm in a calm mood, I come home to my room, turn on some dimmed lights.. light up some incense.. play some light music.. and in a few seconds my mind starts thinking of many random and various things..

Sitting in this atmosphere now, I can only think of one thing.. yet my mind has never been such congested and confused..

إلى أمي

2006-12-04T00:05:00.000+02:00

أعشق هذه القصيدة التي كتبها الشاعر محمود درويش و غناها الإنسان و الفنان الرائع مارسيل خليفة. لسبب أو لآخر أتذكر هذه الأغنية كثيرا هذه الأيام

أحنُّ إلى خبز أُمي

وقهوة أُمي

ولمسة أُمي

..وتكبرُ فيَّ الطفولةُ

يومًا على صدر يومِ

وأعشَقُ عمرِي لأني

إذا مُتُّ

!أخجل من دمع أُمي

خذيني، إذا عدتُ يومًا

وشاحًا لهُدْبِكْ

وغطّي عظامي بعشب

تعمَّد من طهر كعبك

وشُدّي وثاقي

بخصلة شَعر

بخيطٍ يلوِّح في ذيل ثوبك

عساني أصيرُ إلهًا

إلهًا أصير

!إذا ما لمستُ قرارة قلبك

ضعيني، إذا ما رجعتُ

وقودًا بتنور ناركْ

وحبل غسيل على سطح دارك

لأني فقدتُ الوقوفَ

بدون صلاة نهارك

هَرِمْتُ، فردّي نجوم الطفولة

حتى أُشارك

صغار العصافير

درب الرجوع

لعُش انتظارِك

separate unrelated moments

2006-11-25T14:13:00.000+02:00

I wrote this last January, a few days after the year has started. However, it is a timeless post since these little pleasures will always make me content at any given day...

sipping a nicely brewed coffee with the right proportions of ingredients.. a warm and soft hand holding mine in a cold weather.. a nice short poem that speaks of feminine beauty and passionate love.. meeting people that are so tolerant to others.. a tender song that can make me hum and sway.. a cozy and intimate chat with a friend where we share our weaknesses and fantasies and silly stories.. having some tea with mint in a calm atmosphere after a nice meal.. being tucked in bed and reading a nice book that makes me wonder what surprises will be discovered in the next line.. looking at someone's eyes and discovering thrugh their tender looks how much i mean to them.. getting to know new people and finding we have a lot in common regardless of religion, culture, or the way we were brought up.. having an instant same wavelength with someone whom i meet for the first time.. smelling herbs on my way to hussein.. having a warm chat with someone i love until we discover that a very long time has passed so quickly.. remembering some delightful memories from a previous event or trip.. the moment i get tears in my eyes when i feel God's mercy and forgiveness.. thinking of someone and suddenly finding this person calling or emailing me.. the look in a girl's eye after our lips touching and enjoying a long kiss.. walking in the rain and letting some rain drops touch my skin.. sailing in a feluca in summer, at sunset, with a clear sky, and enjoying the night lights of charming cairo.. doing a favor to someone and finding a look of appreciation in their eyes and a pat on my back.. turning on the radio to find my favorite song playing.. walking into a place and finding strangers' eyes looking at me and smiling as if saying: 'i was waiting for you'...

* * *

i'm so at peace with myself tonight, it's unbelieveable! but at least now i know the influence on me of listening to fairouz while tucked in bed with dimmed lights. if i am sane enough i'd say all the experiences and moments above are my new year's resolutions... for them to repeat again and again. i immensely, wholeheartedly, enjoy each and every thing i mentioned above. i'll call this year a year of quality time and precious moments.

inspired

2006-11-19T23:18:00.001+02:00

... is our universal and romantic love the same as our love for seasons.. does it come and go like the weather changes.. today we can love summer.. with its heat and fun-loving mood.. with swimming in salty healing water and getting exposed to the tanning sun rays that turn our skins to attractive bronze.. with its outgoing atmosphere that makes us all unable to bear the staying-at-home winter syndrome.. summer, which ignites love stories and extinguishes them with its departure.. as if they were hibernating and waiting for the sun rays and cold sunset breeze to be alive..

.. but when all this starts to leave us.. when the stories end abruptly, or agreeingly.. when the cold breeze is not associated with sunset alone anymore.. and when the sun starts to subside its heat on us and takes her bronze color that she gifted us with during her blazing summer life.. when winter starts to crawl on us like a slowly-progressing enemy..

.. as soon as he arrives in town we salute it by putting more clothes, as if celebrating the coming of a winning army with their decorated army suits.. we start to prefer more cozy gatherings.. coffee producers start to have sky-rocket profit margins.. is it to their interest, or ours? winter, with all its gloomy atmosphere and deadening life style that makes us think twice before going out.. rain, which cleans the streets and cars from dust as if cleansing our souls from our mistakes and sins that we didn't repent yet.. cold and rainy weather.. which makes us hold and rub hands with a lover looking for warmth.. is it physical or spiritual warmth we're aspiring to? or maybe it's just an unconvincing excuse to hold hands and becalm the earthquakes erupting inside us.. or maybe to agitate them again? her eyes tell me stories.. one story is about not believing my excuses.. my eyes shyingly agree.. she smiles.. i smile back.. while still holding her hands.. and playing with her fingertips like a pianist striking the piano keys for the most beautiful musical piece that was ever created..

.. is our love constant, or does it vary with place and time and words.. what do we love more.. the fresh juice with an umbrella on top in summer to keep us brisk.. or the strong coffee in winter keeping us warm..

January 23, 2004

على إسم مصر

2006-11-19T22:59:00.000+02:00

دي مقاطع بحبها من قصيدة "على إسم مصر" لصلاح جاهين

على اسم مصر
مصر .. التلات أحرف الساكنة اللي شاحنة ضجيج

زوم الهوا وطقش موج البحر لما يهيج

وعجيج حوافر خيول بتجر زغروطة

حزمة نغم صعب داخلة مسامعي مقروطة

في مسامي مضغوطه مع دمي لها تعاريج

ترع وقنوات سقت من جسمي كل نسيج

وجميع خيوط النسيج على نبرة مربوطة

اسمعها مهموسة والا اسمعها مشخوطه

شبكة رادار قلبي جوه ضلوعي مضبوطة

على اسم مصر

***

على اسم مصر
على اسم مصر التاريخ يقدر يقول ما شاء

أنا مصر عندي أحب وأجمل الأشياء

باحبها وهي مالكه الأرض شرق وغرب

وباحبها وهي مرميه جريحة حرب

باحبها بعنف وبرقة وعلى استحياء

واكرهها وألعن أبوها بعشق زي الداء

واسيبها واطفش في درب وتبقى هي ف درب

وتلتفت تلقيني جنبها في الكرب

والنبض ينفض عروقي بألف نغمة وضرب

على اسم مصر
مصر النسيم في الليالي وبياعين الفل

ومرايه بهتانة ع القهوة .. أزورها .. واطل

القى النديم طل من مطرح منا طليت

والقاها برواز معلق عندنا في البيت

فيه القمر مصطفى كامل حبيب الكل

المصري باشا بشواربه اللي ما عرفوا الذل

ومصر فوق في الفراندة واسمها جولييت

ولما جيت بعد روميو بربع قرن بكيت

ومسحت دموعي في كمي ومن ساعتها وعيت

على اسم مصر
مصر السما الفزدقي وعصافير معدية

والقلة مملية ع الشباك .. مندية

والجد قاعد مربع يقرا في الجرنال

الكاتب المصري ذاته مندمج في مقال

ومصر قدامه اكتر كلمة مقرية

قريتها من قبل ما اكتب اسمي بإيديا

ورسمتها في الخيال على أبدع الأشكال

ونزلت أيام صبايا طفت كل مجال

زي المنادي وفؤادي يرتجف بجلال

على اسم مصر

a vague distance

2006-11-11T23:31:00.000+02:00

... don't know whether to laugh or to cry.. whether to bless or to curse .. a mix of thoughts and reflections.. the happy, the bad, and the ugly.. the demise of a great man.. and a life of a beautiful girl.. which one is causing tears.. and which is stirring smiles..

.. have you ever felt like there's so much to say, yet nothing to be said.. have you felt like you're literally bursting with feelings and emotions.. yet you can't let them out.. or even expose part of them.. for no obvious reason.. maybe for lack of words, or the fact that they won't have any effect once they're out.. like all the previous ones.. maybe desperation.. or fear.. maybe none and it's all nonsense..

.. her blurry image keeps popping into my mind.. is it blurry? or is it me who wants to see her blurry? .. my mind's eye has her in the background all the time.. like a sky.. omnipresent.. like a knocking hammer.. painful and persistent.. but I can hear her clearly.. with her cute little voice.. with her bright face, like a kid's smile on a swing.. with her unmatched beautiful and innocent soul.. shining, like the yellow ray of the sun.. with her tear-shedding tenderness.. like the fall of a morning dew from a green leave to quench the thirst of a root.. how tender and generous is nature! .. is she here only in my mind.. or far away from my heart.. a vague distance..

.. a man.. with his wise white beard.. a man of respect and integrity.. that turned all common men to null.. a man of strong stance.. swearing never to abandon the ship until it's safe and sound.. a real man who was an idol for all the brave ones around.. one of a kind in an era where fear and humiliation are the most common values around for those who are ugly enough to betray their people.. alas, his life was taken gravely.. but lucky him.. he lived as a hero, and died as a martyr.. just like every other man would dream of his life to be.. is his soul incarnated again through us, or is it far away from earth abandoning the cowards.. a vague distance...

March 22, 2004

أحبائي لجوليا بطرس

2006-11-07T18:22:00.000+02:00

This is the latest song by my beloved Lebanese singer, Julia Boutros. She made this song after listening to the speech of Hasan Nasrallah last September after the war with Israel that lasted almost 34 days.

I met Innocence

2006-11-07T00:56:00.000+02:00

I met
Innocence.

Beautiful dark eyes
Paralyzing one's being
Purifying his life of misdeeds, and
Setting his account straight with the Almighty

Mesmerized and dumbfounded I became
Struck by a brief unintentional gesture of her aura
With her chestnut hair
Crowning a captivating, ticklish smile

masters of war

2006-11-01T23:55:00.000+02:00

I listen to Bob Dylan a lot these days, and I'm trying to collect all his works, or at least most of it. This song below is really one of my favorites by him. Other than the beautifully made music and the great performance of Bob, the lyrics just says a lot about wars and whoever takes it up as a trade. With all what's happening around us these days and with all the destruction and loss of innocent souls everyday, this song pops into my mind often..

*~*~*

come you masters of war
you that build all the guns
you that build the death planes
you that build the big bombs
you that hide behind walls
you that hide behind desks
i just want you to know
i can see through your masks

you that never done nothin'
but build to destroy
you play with my world
like it's your little toy
you put a gun in my hand
and you hide from my eyes
and you turn and run farther
when the fast bullets fly

like judas of old
you lie and deceive
a world war can be won
you want me to believe
but I see through your eyes
and I see through your brain
like I see through the water
that runs down my drain

you fasten the triggers
for the others to fire
then you set back and watch
when the death count gets higher
you hide in your mansion
as young people's blood
flows out of their bodies
and is buried in the mud

you've thrown the worst fear
that can ever be hurled
fear to bring children
into the world
for threatening my baby
unborn and unnamed
you ain't worth the blood
that runs in your veins

how much do I know
to talk out of turn
you might say that I'm young
you might say I'm unlearned
but there's one thing I know
though I'm younger than you
even Jesus would never
forgive what you do

let me ask you one question
is your money that good
will it buy you forgiveness
do you think that it could
i think you will find
when your death takes its toll
all the money you made
will never buy back your soul

and I hope that you die
and your death'll come soon
i will follow your casket
in the pale afternoon
and I'll watch while you're lowered
down to your deathbed
and I'll stand o'er your grave
'til i'm sure that you're dead

A man's companion

2006-10-29T21:17:00.002+02:00

A quote that I love a lot. I read it the first time many years ago, and I came by it again today, so I thought to write it down. For me it shows how women should be respected and loved and how they should be treated by men. Compassion means a lot to human beings...

Woman was created from the rib of man,
not from his head to top him,
neither from his feet to be walked upon..
but from his side to be his equal,
from beneath his arm to be protected,
and from next to his heart to be loved.

On the sand dunes..

2006-10-29T20:26:00.001+02:00

With the recent talk about the trip to the desert, I recall a poem I wrote back in 2002 when I made my first trip to the western desert. It was a marvellous trip! The vast and spacious desert has always been a source of inspiration and inner peace for me. The chain of sand dunes and the surrounding tranquility are very calming and soothing to the soul..

*~*~*

on the sand dunes
admiring, wandering around
toasting from the tea pots
gazing at the lonely moon, devotedly
with its mysterious ring travelling round and round

with the new night
come about the music tunes
stirring memories and humors, till the light
climbs up the fixated high mountains
the stretched ridges, the unfolded hills

then descends the morning
with the voices praying for His feast
rising to His throne in awe
for His verses in action
His humble creation, the least

now the mission has been accomplished
with the total strangers as new friends
sharing rememberings, laughs, and stories
and yet, creating even more
over the unadulterated lands

Feb 25, 2002

Fayoum's delicacies

2006-10-29T00:54:00.000+02:00

I came back yesterday from a short trip to Fayoum's Zad el-Mosafer lodge as it was Eid el-Fitr vacation. The place is located on Qarun lake, and fairly close to Wadi al-Rayyaan. The place is so beautiful. It has a spacious courtyard where guests would gather in the evening or at night to chat and smoke and exchange stories. It also has a small and cozy swimming pool and a charmingly humble dining room.

The owner of the place is an old man who was one of the founders of an old cultural publication called Al-Qahira, and he used to write in it as well. He also contributed in many of the regional cultural publications. He told me an old story when he took part, along with lots of other youths, in a demonstration in Tahrir Square in 1972 which lasted 4 days. On the 3rd night, they found lots of sandwiches being delivered to all the people in the sit-in. Naturally, they wandered who sent these sandwiches, until they knew it's the family of a famous businessman. The son of this businessman is the chairman of the company I work in now. :-)

Moments I liked during this trip:
- The old stories I heard from Mr. Abdou about Cairo in the 60s and 70s. It's an era that I always hear about being prosperous, beautiful, and respectable.. an era that I'd have loved to live through
- Lying down on grass at night, gazing at a beautifully clear dark sky and its bright stars, while listening to the soothing voices of Fairouz and Norah Jones
- Having my dinner in the warm bedouin-style dinning room
- Spending a lot of time during the day reading in the green courtyard and enjoying the crisp and sunny weather
- Watching and playing with a very cute and fluffy white dog running all over the place and rubbing his body and rolling it over the grass
- Waking up to a very delicious and filling breakfast

It is definitely a place that I would love to visit again...

Iraq now!

2006-10-26T01:34:00.000+02:00

I saw this caricature lately, and I think it fits very well -- unfortunately -- what's going on Iraq now. Sunnis and Shites are fighting each other for power. The Sunnis are afraid to lose their historical control over Iraq, while the majority Shites want to take over the power to themselves becasue they have suffered previously under Saddam (Sunni) and they don't want this to happen again.

With the recent talk about having a country that is divided into 3, we find the Kurds already starting to separate in their northern section, and they recently had their own flag as well. Meanwhile, the south part is dominated by Shites. So most of the current fightings -- almost 90% -- are occurring in the middle section, "in a circle with a 30-KMs diameter from Baghdad", as yesterday the US Commander in Iraq mentioned in a press conference.

To what results these fightings will lead.. this is what the coming weeks will answer...

Things on my mind..

2006-10-25T22:24:00.000+02:00

This is a list of things I'm thinking about currently [briefly]:

- Iraq.. what happened to it after the American invasion in 2003 and up till now, and also the sectarian killings that are tearing it apart into pieces and making the word 'trust' a luxury;

- Palestinians and their ongoing sufferings from what the Israelis do, which include: mass killings, genocides, making their life hard at checkpoints and not allowing them to reach their farming lands, letting them live in poor areas that have major infrastructure problems.. and the list goes on;

- Gamal potentially inheriting Egypt's presidency as if he's inheriting a property from his ailing dad;

- What Hizboallah has done to the Israelis in the recent war and how the Israelis were totally taken by their powerful and solid resistence. After a whole month of fighting from both sides and the repeated Israeli and US announcements that they want to get rid of Hizboallah's weaponry, they couldn't do it. Hassan Nasrallah has proven to be a pain in the a$$ for Israelis;

- The black cloud in Cairo that has been going on for 7 years. I just read an article today mentioning that after 25 years the number of Egyptians who have cancer will be much more than now due to this cloud. Although it has been going on for all this time, the government hasn't taken any action till now;

- How Egypt is passing through some of its hardest times now.. due to both its government and its citiziens. The government that is drowned in corruption, that facilitates the stealing of banks money - through loans - to the rich business men who escape the country.. and the citizens who make Egypt looks like a trash can, who don't respect any kind of laws, and don't even respect each other;

- People are very intolerant to each other and each one thinks that he's on the right side and everyone else is wrong. Not only that, but people also are trying to impose their beliefs and thoughts on the others all the time;

- How I can't see now any positive signs that Egypt is going to improve anytime soon on any dimension...

Kefaya ba2a...

Today is the second day of Eid el-Fitr. Kul sana wento tayebeen...

يا بنات إسكندرية

2006-10-22T22:57:00.000+02:00

Several years ago I received the following stanza on a mailing group:

THE WOMEN OF CAIRO
Phillip Slattery

Eyes made of the Egyptian night
Sparkling like an oasis pool
Skin the color of the endless sand
Beauty of forgotten goddesses lives on

I liked it much and I thought it is so descriptive and flirting! Later on the same day a girl from Alexandria sent to the group -- jokingly -- and requested that someone write something about Alexandrian girls. I thought this was tempting, and I wanted to have a shot and try to write something. And this is what I wrote...

THE WOMEN OF ALEXANDRIA
Khaled Reda

Glistening water and sunny sun
Bronzy, silky, shiny skin
Blue black starry night
Make a majestic manhood
To royal eyes, plight

Almost around the same time these exchanges were taking place, maybe before or maybe after, I attended a training course arranged by work. Right in front of me on the other side of the room there was a pretty girl sitting. I didn't know her. Being what I am, I thought to forget about the course for few minutes and write something about her.. and this is what I wrote...

Eyes open wide
With the color of the deep sea
Smiling, like a morning dew
Healing the scars of the leaves

... I figured out later on that she was also from Alexandria.

آية من سورة لقمان

2006-10-20T05:46:00.000+02:00

بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

وَمَا تَدْرِي نَفْسٌ مَّاذَا تَكْسِبُ غَدًا وَمَا تَدْرِي نَفْسٌ بِأَيِّ أَرْضٍ تَمُوتُ إِنَّ اللَّهَ عَلِيمٌ خَبِيرٌ

صَدَقَ اللّهُ الْعَظِيمِ

Blackberry Wine

2006-10-17T00:25:00.000+02:00

Chocola, Blackberry Wine, Holy Fools, ... and others. These are books written by Joanne Harris. Almost a week ago I finished reading Blackberry Wine. The nice thing about this book is that while reading it, I could sense a soft and dizzy atmosphere looming in the story, and in my surroundings. It was as if the words in the novel are elating and intoxicating, with a sweet flavor and indulging aura, just like wine.

What added to this atmosphere as well are the talking wine bottles that tell stories about their origins, owners, and how they ended up being in that place! However silly it might sound, this is not a fantasy book! :-) I believe the purpose of the talking bottles was to add more dizziness in the story and to let the reader relate more to the substance being tackled.. which was a very productive approach.

Something else that added to the charm of the atmosphere is the location of this story. The main location is an old farmhouse in Lansquenet, a tiny French town, and in the middle of vineyards and farms. Reading a novel that involves wine and located in a seemingly quiet farming area is quite an experience.

The events start with the author Jack Mackintosh tasting some 1975 home-brewed wine from an old bottle made by Joe, someone he used to know when he was young. This mouthful of wine sends him over a journey and an adventure in France.. an adventure where past and present become one.

Lansquenet is the same town that Juliet Binoch moved to in the events of Chocola.

اسكندريللا كمان و كمان

2006-10-16T00:45:00.000+02:00

A few evenings ago I went to another concert by Eskendrella in Sawy Sakya. They usually play songs for Shaikh Imam, Sayid Darwish, and other songs written by Salah Jahin, Fouad Haddad, and Ahmed Fouad Negm. Whenever I listen to this group I feel my love for Egypt intensifying and soaring high.

The songs they play describe Egypt and its people during previous decades where there was so much nationalism around and people were feeling more responsible for their country than currently -- or so I hear. These songs describe Egypt during a time when I wasn's even alive, but they make me wish to have lived it.

This is a very mighty song written by Ahmed Fouad Negm. The way the group was singing it was so amazing.. powerful, meaningful, and very passionate and full of courage. All the audience was reacting very passionately to the song.. and their stomping feet on the floor made me feel that all these people need a revolution.. a liberating revolution...

شيد قصورك ع المزارع
من كدنا وعمل إدينا

والخمارات جنب المصانع
والسجن مطرح الجنينه

واطلق كلابك في الشوارع
واقفل زنازينك علينا

وقل نومنا في المضاجع
ادي احنا نمنا ما اشتهينا

واتقل علينا بالمواجع
احنا اتوجعنا واكتفينا

وعرفنا مين سبب جراحنا
وعرفنا روحنا والتقينا

عمال وفلاحين وطلبه
دقت ساعتنا وابتدينا

نسلك طريق ما لهش راجع
والنصر قرب من عنينا

النصر أقرب من إدينا

Dad..

2006-10-14T05:25:00.000+02:00

This is the first poem I ever wrote. It came to life after a very tragic event in my life back in 2001. My father has passed away only 3 days before his birthday. Has he been alive now, he would be 72 years old. I wrote this poem 3 months after he passed away.

I can safely say that this poem had lead me to express myself a lot in writing later on. The feeling I had after I wrote this poem was a feeling of relief and satisfaction. Relief that I was finally able to let those sad feelings out, and a satisfaction that I've learned to express myself in a form of poetry, something I was interested to discover.

* * *

Yearning for existence
A warm palm en-shivering my cold flesh
Like the thrill of a first kiss

His wounded misty eyes
Remind me of a lonely bird
Searching for a nest, a hometown
In my eyes

With all his quivering soft touches
Shaking me like an earthquake
and setting my heart wondering
When the collapse will take place

Fingers, creeping and tremoring
Like an infant reaching for a motherly
embrace, the world
Or the after-world

Loose grippings, yet cautious
Envision a father's picture and his caressing eyes,
Carefully holding a new-born

The looks, foggy and fuzzy
Like an aimless, disoriented arrow
Locating a destination, miraculously

Alas! An evaporated muse that was
That once set my soul commencing
Yet, aborting his mission,
and leaving me alone

December 17, 2001

Finally!

2006-10-14T04:08:00.000+02:00

This is the first post on my brand new blog.

During the past few years, I heard this question many times: "Khaled, why don't you create your own blog?", and I used to reply with the same answer: "I don't feel like doing that.. I don't have much to say anyway, and if I do, I'll write it in an email and send it to you, and to the groups I'm subscribed to if I want others to see it."

However, I don't know why lately I have been thinking of creating my own blog.. my own space where I can jot down anything I feel or think about.. where I can be foolish or wise, nice or blunt, polite or aggressive.. without anyone trying to "correct" me or censor me. Also, there are silly things that I can write here, but wouldn't think they could be email material.

Another reason for starting this blog is that lately there are a lot on my mind that I would like to unburden myself with, or in other words share with others whether they know me or not. There are lots of things happening around us these days -- the good and the bad -- and I believe I would like to comment on them through my own point of view.

I chose the name Rays & Shadows to signify the nature of posts on this blog. One post could be very cheerful, maybe due to an Egyptian winning a Nobel award or for a happy event in my personal life.. and at other moments I would be very crude and sarcastic.

I usually like to see myself through the eyes of others around me, so feel free to post your comment or a critique.

So here we go.. now I have my own space!

Khaled Reda
Saturday, October 14th, 2006
4:30 AM
Cairo, Egypt