Haddan Saeidan

Amy Greenlane lost her parents in a car accident when she was a small child and her Granpa and Granma adopted her as soon as possible. They slowly made her feel better by nourishing her soul with words and those words eventually made sentences then pages thus became the books of her life. Everyday words, new words, odd words, foreign words-diverse collections and arrangements of various words breathed in new meanings then exhaled hurts and therefore caressed her broken heart by their salve. Words made her feel alive, whole again. They gradually made her spirit tell its own happy stories.

Her Mom and Dad now lived inside a special book of her thoughts which Amy had written with great adored memory. This book was opened when she felt sad or nostalgic, then closed after it gave her happiness. By the teaching of those same words to Amy, Granma and Granpa also became healed from a terrible loss as grief alone writes its own crying story which can seem never-ending.

Amy became a friendly, lovely and intelligent young lady who had an excellent grasp of English for a now fifteen-year-old. Her knowledge of grammar, syntax, vocabulary and spelling ensured she was always top of her English class. She defined the word logophile. She quizzed her grandparents’ brains constantly for new words.

Frank Greenlane worked with countless words before and during his final job as a lexicographer for a well-known dictionary publisher. His first job assignment after university, however, was a journalist for the largest by circulation English newspaper in the Middle East. He met his wife-to-be there on an expatriate field trip to a desert oasis. She taught English at an Arabic school and during their initial meeting in the heated wilderness of combined delight, their twin worlds of words joined. Eventually, they returned to his home state of Michigan.

The Greenlane family lived in a quaint cottage in rural Armada, Michigan and they called their home: “Apple Heart” because of the seeds of love within it.

Frank and Jane were happily retired on small pensions and although adequate, money was never enough to provide luxuries. The couple were cheerful enough folk though; regardless of how little money they possessed-most of their happiness was because of Amy.

During one miserable day, three things went seriously wrong. On a Saturday afternoon, Amy was watching TV when she heard a small shriek from the kitchen where her Granma was using a food processor/mixer to knead dough for bread. Amy rushed into the kitchen to see Granma’s face horrified as sparks flew and a black plume of smoke hovered over Jane’s ancient mixer just before it was unplugged from the electrical socket. It had mixed its last batch of dough! A calamity as Frank was crazy about her homemade bread and cakes. Jane’s fingers were arthritic-she totally relied on her machine for baking.

Later, Amy’s old laptop stopped working completely and was beyond repair. It had been fixed a few times before and she was warned the next time it broke down would be its last. Luckily, she always backed up her stories and poetry her grandparents loved to read. Amy was heartbroken when she told Granma as she knew there wasn’t a budget to replace it.

The telephone rang after that episode and Amy answered.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi Amy, it’s Granpa… please get Granma?’

‘Sure. What’s wrong?’

By the sound of Granpa’s voice she knew something awful had happened.

‘it’s Shandi…her engine’s broken. I’m at the repair shop.’

Shandi was the name affectionately given to his immaculate ’68 Chevrolet Impala. They often went on excursions and Shandi faithfully took them - making up for expensive vacations which they couldn’t afford. Frank had gone fishing when disaster struck the Chevy on his return home. Jane came to the phone.

‘Hello? Frank? Are you okay? What has happened?’

‘Hi angel, I was on my way home and Shandi’s engine lost power, made such a grinding noise then a big bang and no power. I opened the hood and I could see a piston had gone through the engine and it made a mess of other things. It was close by to Patrick’s repair shop so she was towed there. Patrick said he’ll check it out tomorrow as a special favor but it looks like Shandi will need a new engine dang it. I will get a lift home from him. See you soon.’

Patrick phoned Frank on Sunday and said a new engine was required. He’d need two weeks to order and install it. A discounted price was given which was still thousands of dollars. With a glum look, he gathered his small family together and told them the bad news. Jane responded:

‘Amy shall use my tower PC and she’ll knead my dough. A fair exchange until we save for our wants. Shandi is the most important need and besides: we love her. We’ve just about sufficient emergency savings for her engine replacement. Don’t try to argue Frank. This is the ladies’ final word!’

One glimpse at their faces was enough for Frank to surrender even before he could open his mouth to disagree.

Amy came home from school on Monday with a big grin and talked to her grandparents. 'The famous author Lee Annson visited our school today. I didn’t know she was a former pupil of my school. I’ve learned her interests in becoming an author stemmed from my school so in honor, she is sponsoring a contest to coincide with promoting her current bestseller she’s set in Dubai. Her first Middle Eastern book. I know Granma bought it a while back. It’s a winner-take-all prize of twenty thousand dollars! Because of my consistently high marks for English, I’ve been invited to participate. It’s in two weeks’ time and I’ve put my name down. Our English teacher Miss Brown, the principal and Ms. Annson will judge the contest and a prize-giving date will be announced thereafter. Miss Brown will be the proctor.’

Frank and Jane looked agog and said almost in unison, ‘What are the rules?’

Amy read from the rules sheet: ‘A number of random words in no particular order will be given at the start of the contest which will be mostly of Arabic origin but understandably not written in Arabic but English. Write a brief narrative/parable set in the Middle East with your own words but it must include as many of the meanings or synonyms of the words given in context. The actual words must not be used. The story must be exactly 240 words excluding the title. This is for Ms. Annson’s personal reasons. When the tale is finished, the words used for their meanings or synonyms must be placed in sequence of their usage beneath the story. No dictionaries, thesauruses or electronic devices can be used. An exercise book, journal or notebook is allowed for contestants to write as many words as possible and meanings in that might be found helpful. Lots of the words provided can be found in her latest novel: “Middle East Moon.”

Two-hour time limit.

The winner will be the contestant who uses most words from the word bank and writes the best short tale.’

Amy continued. ‘The competition will be fierce as selected pupils from all county schools will be allowed to enter. Lee Annson obviously wants publicity for her book and the contest will receive serious media attention.’

Frank and Jane stared at each other knowingly and Granpa went into the study. Five minutes later he returned with a battered leather-bound little black notebook. He thumbed through its yellowed pages with a wistful expression. ‘We lived in the Middle East as you know and Arabic words and Arabic names fascinated us, so we kept a journal of many and their meanings. ‘You can win this contest Amy so take this book and we wish you: haddhan saeidan.’

The contest day arrived and a noisy school hall was full of contestants sitting at desks. All fidgeting - looking apprehensively at the strange words displayed by an overhead projector on a large white screen at the front of the hall. A few cheaters had already been disqualified. Miss Brown eventually came to Amy’s desk, picked up the little black notebook, turned it upside down and riffled the pages. A tiny of slip paper fell out and fluttered onto the desk. On it was written: “Haddhan Saeidan.” Amy became teary-eyed.

Miss Brown stood in front of the assembly, addressed the pupils, then asked for quiet and for them to write their full name and school on the top of each page used of the lined paper she’d provided them. She set a stopwatch for two hours then asked them to begin.

Amy looked at the words on the white screen and this is what she saw:

Mutazawija, pulchritude, kitaab, yataghan, tarfih, mellifluous, saif, licentiousness, circumgyrate, haddhan, saeidan, smaragd, pyknic, whiffle, absquatulate, lamprophony, amira, pontificate, nassiha, auspiciously, genipap, catalyst, didapper, hada’a, reeh, jundi, alqamar, tukarrir, pragmatic, malik, expedient, na’ima, wazir, khaimah, yaqtul, sagacity, wadi, archaic, shi’ir, sahraa, muharib, afreet, acquaint, zawba’a, bint, ardency, wassimaan, yuqatil.

Amy gazed into Grandpa’s little black book exploring for words she was unfamiliar with. Slowly she started casting spells and worked her word magic and this was her submission:

The wind chooses.

A powerful Sultan in ancient times had a daughter he wished married. He consulted his Grand Vizier for advice. A genie was summoned who said there was only two suitors: the wind would decide which one. A warrior whom the Sultan might admire. He was a general himself. A lowly poet who didn’t seem suitable. A pavilion was erected next to a valley which was guarded. The suitors were called.

One heavily muscled warrior named Yusr arrived first. He was dressed in finery and jewels. His sword had no hilt and emeralds were studded in it. The slim poet Fahad arrived. He was dressed in a simple white tunic and carried a little black book. Both men were handsome.

They introduced themselves and although the princess was veiled, they could see her beauty. The warrior had immorality in his eyes-the poet looked with adoration. ‘Entertain me!’’ the Sultan commanded loudly. ’Good luck!’

The warrior withdrew his scabbarded sword; danced in a crazy whirl so fast until his sword whistled loudly thus becoming an impetus for a desert windstorm to quickly arise that suddenly threatened to engulf the pavilion and kill all. The poet opened his book of poetry, looked intently at the girl and sang his poem very melodiously. His voice and words calmed the wind so swiftly and it fell asleep. The warrior fled and soon the poet and his princess became married happily under a new desert moon.

The words Amy decided to use as part of her story in sequential order were these:

Malik, archaic, bint, mutazawija, wazir, nassiha, afreet, reeh, tukarrir, muharib, khaimah, wadi, pyknic, saif, yataghan, smaragd, kitaab, wassimaan, acquaint, amira, pulchritude, licentiousness, ardency, tarfih, lamprophony, haddhan saeidan, circumgyrate, whiffle, catalyst, zawba’a, yaqtul, shi’ir, mellifluous, hada’a, na’ima, absquatulate, sahraa, alqamar.

A week later, Amy was in school on the stage amid thunderous applause and cheering from a packed hall. None louder shouted than by Granpa and Granma. An elated Amy accepted the cheque from Lee Annson who said, ‘Congratulations and wonderfully written Amy. You’ll become a famous author. It is written in your face. Haddhan saeidan.’

Two weeks later, Shandi’s new V8 pulsed softly as Frank drove her from Walmart homeward. They were singing along to a song from the radio. Fortuitously it was “Words” by the BeeGees. Their happiness was indeed palpable. Next to Amy on the back seat was a large box. Inside it a state-of-the-art food processor and mixer. On her lap was a slim box containing a top-notch laptop. Jane in front was holding a brochure and confirmation of a dream vacation for three in Hawaii. Words finally worked very well for the Greenlane family.