Monday, November 27, 2006

Appreciating routine

I had never seen a man cry. But that day on the train I saw him. A simple passenger who happened to sit in front of me. At first, I didn’t pay attention to him. He was just seated there, thoughtfully looking out of the window. He was upset, it was clear, but his mood looked very familiar. If you’re a daily commuter, you wouldn’t be surprised to start your daily human contacts with half-asleep people showing signs of bad temper.

But that man had another problem. A few minutes after the train set off, he started receiving phone calls, apparently not the first of his day. “Yes,” he confirmed every time someone called him. “We divorced yesterday. I was no longer able to put up with life with her. I’ve been away from my country for years in order to grant her the life she wants, but she’s never satisfied!”

Until now, the man’s emotions were still under control. But once he talked about his children, his voice trembled and tears started showing up.

At a certain moment I wished I were somewhere else; I wished I could disappear, but I was just there. All I could do was to pretend I didn’t see anything. I didn’t know what I could do. But anything except expressing compassion, or even asking how he felt. I had the impression the man was begging his eyes to stay dry. He was in that state (which I know very well) where a simple “are u OK?” would transform all what you have to say into warm abundant tears.

I was sorry for him. But forcing my gaze to stay fixed out of the window, I couldn’t help wondering how this story would sound if I heard it from the woman. “Déformation professionnelle,” I mockingly thought to myself. Aren’t journalists supposed to question any information they get? But a few months of journalism couldn’t have established in me that automatic kind of reasoning. It was probably just that feminist, or, more simply, female side of me.

The train arrived in Casablanca and I and hundreds of people prepared ourselves to start an ordinary, for some of us routine working day. But this man’s story made me think how we tend to take the beginning of “normal” days for granted. Sometimes we just feel bored and complain because our day was “normal”, and moan at the thought of starting a "normal" day tomorrow. I and many other passengers rushed out of the train to start the same day. The same sun was shining on all of us. But if that time our day resembled past ones, for some people it didn’t. Somewhere the day started with life-shaking changes. A broken family, shattered life plans, and destabilised children.

Thursday, November 23, 2006


Does it happen only to me?? It’s really strange but a mere sound, colour, or smell, can revive in me the SAME feeling/impression I lived at a certain moment or period in the past. This can be horrible sometimes!!
I remember one day in MT where I used to work, one of my colleagues was scared when I just urged him to stop a song!! It was by Sami Youssef I remember. (Nothing to do with love songs --- sorry to disappoint you hihi).
I have nothing against Sami Youssef and still listen to him. But that particular song reminded me of painful times. That bad feeling of injustice, helplessness and unanswered questions. Now I avoid listening to it, because I’m afraid of having that gloomy vision of myself again… Me, sitting there, calm on the surface, agitated within, and helpless; horribly helpless.
Sometimes I hate the links my brain establishes. They just prevent me from doing what I want any time I want…and even from going where I want sometimes! Yes. This happens also with places. They are always linked to particular events in my mind... first times, last times, incidents, happy ones (with a smile) sad ones (wih a sigh, or just some kind of negative feeling)…
I know this needs therapy. I need to train myself on break those links that haunt me. But this needs time. And all I know for the moment is that I want my memory to be short.

I need to be free!

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

"Wa shahida shahidun min ahliha"

Today the New York Times published an article about a set of documents that were kept secret by the Israeli government. The documents (which include maps and figures) prove that 39% of the land where the Israeli settlements are located in the West Bank are private property originally owned by Palestinians. They also show, among other things, that 40% of the land that Israel intends to keep if any peace agreement is reached is private as well.

The documents were unveiled by "Peace Now, an Israeli group that advocates Palestinian self-determination in the West Bank and Gaza Strip."

Monday, November 20, 2006

Flash back

I don’t know what reminded me of that day. This happened years ago back in my native city. I was around 2, unaware of complex realities. But big people were certainly aware. They were gathered to celebrate something; or probably mourn something. My innocent gaze followed their movement. Tall bodies, with faces not all the time familiar.

My mother was there as well. Something special showed on her face... She was calm and serene, as usual, but there was something else. She was like… crying! Her eyes were humid, her gaze lowered, and the white garment she wore shed a luminous glow on her rosy cheeks… inflamed with tears. But she was silent... What could she say after all…

My brother was dead.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Back to enthusiasm

Here we go…

After long resistance, I’m finally giving in (willingly:)) to the blogsphere temptation! A lot to say and a lot more to hear… I’ve been an external observer for a while, sometimes amazed by the content of some blogs, sometimes surprised, affected, or just left unmoved by others… Today I’ve moved closer, my head slowly showed through the door, with a light smile on the face, my eyes wide open. I made the first step...

Let’s see what this new experience will bring (apart from my poor forgotten meal, burnt while I was fixing my new blog!!! hahaha)

"Nice" start you will say… probably!! After all, I’m just a daily learner of this Big World… :)