Meeting Rosy

I heard her name was Rosy. I’ve never met her before. I saw her from a distance walking gracefully without knowing it was her. When I approached her they told me that she was the one.

Rosy was a brunet, elegantly curved, with dark mysterious eyes. One glance from her I felt she could look down deep into my soul. She was silent for brief minutes and I was looking at her trying to be acquainted and start a relationship. I was intimidated as much as I was enthusiastic to ride the mare, Rosy.




The trainer told me to climb up and sit on the saddle. For a moment I looked at huge Rosy and prayed for God that everything will go on just fine. Once I was on the saddle, with my body straight up, the elegant horse-riding black cap on my head, it felt like home. According to the trainer’s instruction, I kicked Rosy and made the sound with my tongue, but Rosy stands still. The trainer laughed at me and told me to kick harder and I said “Poor Rosy”. A couple of times and my kicks were getting harder and Rosy obeyed the command.

Now I was few meters away from the trainer, and she said to me with a loud voice “control the horse as if you’re driving a car”. I smiled secretly and said to myself thankfully I drove for two weeks back in Baghdad during 2000. Rosy kept walking me rounds and rounds in the training arena. The trainer took the time to teach me the “up & down” exercise.

After a while I found myself talking to Rosy as if we were old friends. The trainer asked me from a distance if I wanted Rosy to run. Thinking of course I want, I nodded with my head for approval. She told me to shorten the bridle, kick again and whistle.

By doing that, it felt like magic. Rosy started to run and the morning breeze started to blow in my face. I felt I was standing like Jack and Rose on the forefront of the Titanic. By runny joyfully for several rounds, Rosy encouraged Blue (my uncle’s horse) to run as well. Unfortunately, my uncle has a problem with heights and animals, and just like me he wanted to face challenges, but he wasn’t ready to run yet.

Whenever there was a chance and Blue was afar for a good distance, I would command Rosy to run and enjoy it. By then Rosy and I were fiends as I believe and I was patting on her long horsy neck. But time flied by and the hour was over and I had to say goodbye to Rosy and the trainer and I promised that it wasn’t scary and I enjoyed it and will definitely come back again soon.

Changes

This lyric was stuck on my mind for a while now and I just need to get it out. I haven’t heard this song for ages now. I used to love it and I do miss listening to this song or anything by 3DD but just like I stopped Metallica for a while I stopped so many stuff right now.

I’m going through changes though :)

I won the third place for the competition that I participated in. I don’t remember I told any of you about it but it’s an art competition on the UAE plane. The subject should be inspired form UAE heritage or developmental aspects about the country.
The competition is carried on by Emirates University – university social club/ Al Ain Emirate. I’m not going to brag here. I leave that for my parents and friends :)




These days I’m busy with another UAE event but in Sharjah. I remember two years back I wrote something about going to the Heritage Festival in Sharjah, it’s the same festival. But this time I’m not a visitor. I’m one of the participants in the art competition. It’s feels like we’re in Paris drawing and painting in the street where people pass by and look at our work and take photos. I’ve never liked such things and never considered doing so, but with most of the colleagues I know from the institute and some other Special Needs institute/ most of them deaf and mute, it became a very interesting experience.

I’ve always wanted to learn sign language and I had cards for alphabets and some important signs. I wish I can understand it especially when I see the news with a quarter of the screen a guy using signs to commune the news. Sometimes I try to relate between the spoken and the signs and learn but other times I give up and mute the sound and say whatever comes to my mind when I see his signs. My family like it when I used to do so and my sisters used to laugh hysterically.

But last week I met a bunch of sweet girls and guys from age 12 to late twenties, and all were deaf. it's my first time to meet deaf perople.My colleagues and I had to pay really, I mean really really good attention to know what these folks are trying to tell us. It was the first time for me to feel reall ignorant. They taught us many signs including the days of the weeks. At certain times they had to write to us on their palms what they wanted to say when we couldn’t get what the sign stands for. As for their names they show the letters and after giving us hard times to get them they gave us a paper with their names. They made real fools out of us! We learnt which country each one was from and I spent most of the time with an Iraqi girl who left Iraq three years back. I was amazed by her intelligence. She even had some words or let me say signs about war, occupation and what’s going on these days. It helped a lot that they already know how to read lips.

It’s been hectic for a while now; with my thesis, topics to discard and resources to find. I missed my friend N who just came back from Baghdad after a month. And my friend R is busy with her work and flu. I feel exhausted. I was studying and I fell asleep. It was a weird nap from 1:30- 5:30 pm. I woke up in the same world and same room but it felt as if my dream, which I cannot remember, downloaded new programs and now it’s time for me to review these programs and reset my life with the ones I need to keep.

I believe that every now and then one should take a moment and look at life from an objective point of view. Review all the givens, set any deviation right and see new opportunities.
I’m in the process of trying to make sketches for my up coming exhibition for Ramadhan. I’m changing my style and acquiring new one, at the same time I’m considering Arabic Calligraphy.

That’s all for now

Oh and I haven’t slept since yesterday morning. I’ve been staying up for a while now and two days back my grandma came form Germany. I know I didn’t say much about that but I have to dedicate an entire blog not a post just to express my feelings or joy and respect for this great women. I love her :)

Oh oh and I broke my fasting for chocolate :D not eating much but a couple of small pieces a day. And I ate “pinky candy clouds” as I love to call cotton candy, two days in a raw :))

Dead-Mouse Morning

Almost stepped on a baby dead mouse, yes, not a good morning sign. But I survived the day and others did not.
The last time I heard “I hate to be the carrier of bad news” Tiswahin, my sister’s fish died. This time I heard the phrase but it was way much serious and the news came from Baghdad. The phrase was followed by “Poor Hiba…” my heart skipped a beat “…. Her husband died.”

Hiba, my mother’s second cousin, who got married less than a couple years back and recently, had a baby girl.

I asked how. “Yesterday, during Karada’s mishap, the missile fell on the house next door when he went out to turn off the water boiler. A shrapnel landed on his head and dropped him dead instantly”

I was in a shock for a moment. I’ve never met him but I knew her since we were kids. I tried to process the bad news but I couldn’t. My parents were taking a nap and I thought I heard my dad’s voice and went in to their room and couldn’t keep my mouth shut. My mother was almost asleep and she woke up on the horrible news. I could process that it was not a bright idea to tell her while she was asleep and still couldn’t feel anything.

I went to my room, tried to go back to my book but I couldn’t. it hit me so hard that I started crying, not for the man deceased man I never met, nor for poor Hiba, but for the poor baby girl who will be raised without a father. No matter how much she will be loved, no matter how better the situation will get in Iraq, which I doubt for the current time, this girl will be raised without a dad.

Not only this girl but an entire generation will be raised without a father, mother or someone close to the family, and will carry the emotional scars with them all the time wherever they go.