The Mirror - Al-Mura

Al-Wadi (The Valley)

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Yet here I was reclining upon my favorite olive tree which I had named, Zaytun, gazing at the sun rays as they were merging onto the horizon with thoughts of a tomorrow. Wanting to welcome the moon, for even in darkness there is always light. Recognizing that the land could only give as much as it is given, I absorb all the beauty that these pastures lands have to offer. My mind begins to wander in the creation of it all and I fall short for words, for this life had not always been this complex. There was a time were harmony reigned among us and peace filled the air; but those days are now long gone.

Inhaling deeply the fragrance that only these mountains could offer which comforts the center of my being. Only here, do I feel peace and serenity as I watch over the many of us whom cohabit this land. Nostalgic for a life that would never be the same, yet urgent change is what is required for survival. I listen closely to the silence that brings forth the reminder that all can coincide if one allows unity to prevail, but yet my people were beginning to lose hope. From a distance I hear the vocalist of our town insisting it is time for prayer and I begin to gather my belongings immediately, for my family never loses track when portraying to the honoring our Lord.

Rushing as I collect myself from the clouds that ascribe characters to my deciphering of dreams, I begin to align my sight to what must be done. Admiring the colorful horizons once more before my departure to give alms to The Creator of All.

My mother, Fatima, is surely waiting for my arrival at the bottom of the hill, where she awaits all of her children. Without fail, each and every one of us are running towards her; for we all are aware that this hour of day is imperative for our existence. For now we find each day to be more precious than the last since the debarkation of the altiniyn (dragons). No longer does anyone find comfort in just living for today, for tomorrow is never truly guaranteed. She greets us all with a gentle kiss on our foreheads, as she utters the sweetest salam (peace) that without a doubt, always fills my heart with glee. She proceeds to instruct us, of that which we are fully aware of, that is it time to cleanse ourselves and rushes us to the lavatory. We all reply to her in unison and adhere to her demand.

As I make way to purify my body, my sister, Oma, as usual begins to tease me, that no matter how much water I may use, I will never be cleansed. Mother overhears her chatter and corrects her immediately. I begin to laugh, while Oma discretely pinches me. I pay her no mind and continue my ritual as usual. My eldest brother, Bilel, is late as usual and begins to rush me for he is always impatient for his turn. Which leaves me no choice but to rush in the matter, for father always expects his company above all when it comes to prayer. Father takes great pride in knowing he has raised a son with amendable strength. Bilel smirks for he knows very well I would never dispute with him, for if I do, I would certainly be held to blame.

Our grandfather, Amin, as usual is waiting for our arrival at the masjid as he is admonished at the time of day. Gazing at the skies as he becomes overwhelmed with the merging of pinks, yellows, and hints of violet, he exhales at the delight of his sight. Acknowledging the importance of unity in these times of corruption within our valley. He holds tightly his handkerchief which our grandmother, Aabidah, had embroided for him the word maktub, as a reminder that all will come to pass. I tap him on his right shoulder and he becomes startled, yet he embraces me kindly with a smile that warms up any room. He instinctively holds my face and kisses my forehead and greets me salam. I ask him, if he is ready for prayer, as he gently nods, for he is a man who does not speak much, especially since the passing of our grandmother. We begin to find our matts as we watch the others taking their places to give praise that we all have been gathered once more by the mercy of Our Lord.

I always find prayer to end as quickly as it is has begun, for when in this state I find myself to be filled with an unfamiliar form of gravity which transcends my mind to move very peculiarly. It is as if though I can become part of another dimension that differs each and every time. The impact of the trance leaves me immobile for a few, for I must gather the perception of my reality once adjusting to the normality of this world. My grandfather has been the only one able to detect this change as it is occurring, I wonder if this is one of the reasons he keeps a close eye on me. He utters my name softly, “Hamza”, and instant recognition brings me forth to reality. I smile to assure him of my safe travels as we help one another get up from our matts.

Since a child, Grandfather has always seem to have held me in high regards and honestly at times I wonder why. As long as I can remember I have been different from my brothers and sisters. Although I have never felt the absence of love, I have always felt the nudge of indifference. My siblings all seems to carry beauty as a marking of our lineage, while me on the other hand, not so much. I come from a family of fair olive skin that can be distinguished my its luminosity and glow. Their eyes are rich Arabic coffee brown which seems to become its own natural pull that enchants anyone who sees them. Their hair dances with winds as they invite conversation. Although I have never been one for envy, my curiosity has been heightened by my appearance.

I have been created with a complexion which mimics their coffee brown eyes and leaves many to wonder. My eyes are crimson with a hint of mulberry that does not allow others to insinuate direct contact; it brings to their sight what seems to be fright. My hair throws hints of wisdom, for it is as grey as knowledge. And yet these features do not define me. I have always been content with the characteristics that set me apart, but because of them, I am not always accepted.

Many in the village tease me, but because of my bloodline, I seem to be protected. My family is well respected and known for their many attributes. I come from generations of farmers that prosper of these lands. Blessed in these times of distress where vegetation is not easily assessable. Which is one of the many reasons why my family gives out to the villagers' chalices of oil, which we prep ourselves, to instill humility. Mother packs them with care in bundles, and to encourage hope, she adds a note to each of them with words meant to inspire. These gestures coincide with my purpose in life, for the happiness of others has unceasingly made me more aware of gratuity. I enjoy undouble making many feel seen, although in a world that chooses to look away from my reflection.

The values that are carried in my home are the commandments of the genuine. To live in harmony with existence while accepting differences. Father has been the face of our success. He has dedicated his entire life in learning in regards to agriculture and what is required to establish soil as abundant. Throughout his childhood he had always been fascinated by growth, understanding the mechanisms that are supporters of the long-awaited change. He became determined to unfold his dreams in forms of fruitful trees and prosperous offspring. The meeting with my mother added to his desires, for her beauty is simplistically everlasting. She brought into essence his ultimate satisfaction, which was to bear ten children which carried his genetic codes. With us, my father has been grateful.

Taking each and every one us as a blessing from our Creator, he has treated us generously. Although he never could quite comprehend my peculiarity, he has loved me just the same. The variation of his children extends deeper into personality, for he has always made known that this is what truly makes men, rather than flesh and bones. Mother coincides with his beliefs, which enforces the matter of their union; for love needs no sight. Even though my mother’s beauty may be breathtaking, but it is also breath giving. She is the right balance of fairness and radiance. She exudes from within to give throughout. Never made prideful by the exterior, for Grandfather instructed her where love begins. These are just a few of the qualities my upbringing has instilled in me.

Once in present time I ground myself to what is unfolding before my eyes. Once more the chaos that reigns and infests the streets of our valley rapidly ascends. My Grandfather clenches to my arm, and I feel his terror. We perceive as the villagers begin to scheme and plot mischievousness. Although there is distance between our home and the village, we do not have much to protect us; for our family does not believe in weapons. We believe in emitting light in times of darkness and to never shun others.

Quickly do we gather home, for in these times of dread, it is best we remain here for the rest of the night. Mother has already made dinner and is awaiting my sisters to assist in setting up the dinner table. For some odd reason, Alim and Nura are the ones that Mother prefers for this specific task; perhaps it has something to do with their difference in age and yet the commonality of family. They never budge, it is as if though it has become second nature to them all. Elham, Oma, and Aaliyah do as much as they can from their end. The men usually gather in the living space and discuss the crops and any ideas that may be able to help in our marketing. We are all well aware that our village was beginning to be greatly impacted by the destruction that the dragons had brought upon us as a plague, yet this was our means of life.

Nasir, although one of the youngest, always looks forwards in sharing what has run through his mind all day. He enjoys thinking of creative ways in which he could be of service in any which way possible. This particular night, Nasir had thought about traveling outside of our village to promote our merchandise, in which Father opposed immediately. The look of discouragement on Nasir’s face gave Father no choice but to rethink the idea. He detested not being supportive towards his children for fear of failure. As I mentioned, Father is a great supporter of growth. Nasir smiled instantly, as Father reminds him that he is not making any promises, but that he will look further into it.

Nura comes running from the kitchen at great speed, straight to Father’s arms just to tell him dinner is all set. He laughs, for even though he always expects her to deliver the news in this manner, it still manages to catch him by surprise. “Habibti”, he exclaims, as he carries her and kisses her forehead, “we are coming, no worries”. We all begin to gather around the dinner table, as Grandfather is expected to give alms before we are able to devour this amazing meal Mother has made possible. The aroma intoxicates the room, as we are all awaiting impatiently. Yet Grandfather is the definition of sabir, for he makes sure we make room for patience. As quickly as he is finished, everyone begins to speak at the same time, asking one another to pass the platter of their preference. Another successful night in which our Lord has blessed us to have one another’s company.

As soon as dinner is done, we all assist in clearing up the table, for we see it is only fit for each to do our share, especially since they are so many of us. In no time the task is done, and we must get ready for night prayer. Thankfully, Father had foreseen the dilemma of having many children and placed individual stalls outside of our home with running water so that we may expedite the process. The ladies on the other hand, have the privilege of having four washrooms in the convenience of our home. We all hurry, for we know quite well that once prayer has ended, we must secure the premises and be on the lookout for nonetheless than dragons.

As I had mentioned prior, there weren’t always dragons in the valley, but something has ignited a change that has brought terror to the members of our community. The numbers in dragons seem to be increasing by the day, but so are the crimes that are being performed throughout the village.

At-Tafilah had not always been this horrid place, but rather was known for its uplifting atmosphere and welcoming people, although that is no longer the case. Our people have become violent and full of greed, and for one reason or another, it seems to heighten in hours of the night, which coincidently is the same time that the dragons choose to make their appearances. Without fail, it is expected to hear mournful news in the morning regarding another disappearance or the death of an innocent civilian, my mind wonders, why is it that the innocent always becomes the victim. Mother tries her best to dilute the bitterness by humming sweet hymns throughout the home, and we always appreciate the gesture.

As usual, we begin our routines and converse amongst ourselves what we are looking forward to from the day. Nura cease’s the opportunity and begins to rant about exchanging dolls with her best friend Eva. I question her as to know why she is not content with her current doll, she takes a moment to respond, and then says “there is nothing wrong with Bibti, but rather, I would like Eva to know how much I love her every time she sees her.” Which I thought was a commendable answer, as to why I had to embrace her instantly for her generosity. I look up and notice it is already 6:45 and I must rush, for Father does not like being late. I gather my belongings and run to the lavatory and quickly shower and get dressed.

Mother always makes sure that we eat before heading out, and prepares us hot chocolate with bread. We all anticipate the richness from the cocoa as well as the warmth which soothes our souls. We can always count on Father scattering and searching for his keys, in which Mother wittily has in her hands already and just waiting for him to take notice. He looks all over the place and finally his eyes become set on her as she holds up his keys and smiles. Father makes a gesture at his forgetting and kisses Mother to thank her. She straightens out his jacket for him as she bids him farewells. Immediately he starts calling our names as to get into the vehicle so that we may head to town.

I can feel the heat of the Earth rising as the sun begins to shine with splendor. Admiring the illumination that only the sun can emit with ease. I am usually one of the last ones to occupy the vehicle, for I do enjoy to sit by the window to take in all the priceless beauty our mountains continue to offer. The girls are dropped off first as Father wishes them to have a good day. Shortly after we arrive at our destination as Father reminds us to make sure we attend to our chores once school is done. We all shake our heads in agreeance.

I start to scan in search for my friends Ezra and Isa whom always have stories to tell me in regards to the night prior. Although I have never been one for violence, yet the need to understand why is it that humanity chooses to treat one another this way keeps me intrigued for details. Ezra seems to have become accustomed to the torment he hears within the hours of the night. It appears as if though the innocent cries become entangled with the swirling of the winds as the dragons terrorize the villagers. He can no longer decipher whom is being inflicted with pain as to which is doing the inflicting. I recall days in which Ezra no longer possessed an identity for fear of knowing as to what he had witnessed. The screams seemed to have created a form of communication between him and the dead, for he use to become lost in the present.