We weren’t sure of the path.  The hiking guidebook we were using provided gems such as, “At the big rock, go around.” Or something similar.  We followed the stairs, which appeared to be new but styled to look ancient.  We passed our yoga studio, dipped into a valley, and climbed the side of the mountain once again.  We came to a huge shelf of sorts overlooking endless valleys below and for as far as we could see.

Who's comin' up around the bend?

The ancient Bedouin didn’t so much appear to us.  He was just, well, there.  “Would you like some tea? Maybe a hand-made necklace?”  I can’t decide if his business plan is genius or slightly insane.  Of course we had tea.  We hardly refuse it. I call this moment, “The Tea Sipped at the Top of the World.”  The sweet, sage-infused tea shared among friends grounded us atop this mountain.  We might not be following the guide book anymore, but it didn’t matter.  We had a Bedouin guide confirm we were on the right track.  He also knew where we had camped, that we had a fire late into the night, that we were American, and where we had hiked from.  News travels fast, and we weren’t exactly quiet.  After charging us one JD ($1.41) for each cup of tea, I noticed other hikers far behind us on the same route, and decided this old man’s business plan was genius.

He has the ultimate corner office. You should see the view out his window. It's what you get for being a genius businessman. Note the necklaces hanging from the tree.

We had to shimmy across a ledge from certain-death height.  After helping us across, we bid farewell to our tea provider and kept on.

To slip is to die

Petra was hewn from the rose-red sandstone cliffs of southern Jordan around 100BCE by the Nabataens.  It is both a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the New Seven Wonders of the World.  When you come visit me, we will go see it.

The Monastery -- first, if entering from the desert "behind" Petra.

I imagine trekkers on ancient trade routes entered the city of Petra much in the same way we did.  Coming from India, or China, or from wherever else, in caravans loaded with silk, spices, gold, they had probably heard of the magnificent city carved into stone, but unlike us, with internet and Indiana Jones films, did not know what to expect.  Then, though, the treasury was still a bank, and the monastery a sacred place, but I bet both of us stopped to drink it all in.  Residents of the area still trade, in trinkets and cups of coffee, in camel rides and five star hotel banquets.  Petra got rich from trade, and the money still pours in.  In 2007, a record number of tourists visited Petra (580,000!).

Sneak peak from the siq

For most, Petra is only accessible through a narrow set of gorges called siqs.  Being the bold backpackers that we are, we came in from the desert “behind” Petra.  Filthy and carrying our homes on our backs, we stood out against the inappropriately-dressed European tourists, flashing their skin and their cameras as they weightlessly explored the ancient site.  It was only a cup of tea by the time we were asked if we had tickets.  “No,” we said. “Is there a ticket booth in the desert from whence we came?”  The dread-locked Jordanian picked up his radio, and then told us we needed tickets.  We were aware, we told him, and kept walking.

The Treasury, made famous in Indiana Jones

Same thing the whole way through the valleys: an encounter with a guard, and then moving on, promising to pay at the entrance or just promising nothing and continuing on our way.  Each coming guard seemed to expect us. They probably knew we were coming a whole day before we arrived.  I bet our tea man was only one in a long chain of informants, probably more curious than concerned about whether or not we had a ticket.

Our luck ran out, though, and soon we were piled into the back of a pickup and escorted out of the ‘park’.  We were taken to the police station, and despite our best bargaining, we had to buy tickets at full foreigner price, somewhere near forty bucks.  I was pissed when I realized I had misinterpreted the truck driver: he would not be driving us back to where he picked us up because riding in trucks like that is “dangerous and forbidden”.  So we had to walk!  After five days of walking!  Can you believe it?

I learned something important that day.  When trying to cheap your way out of supporting the preservation of ancient historical sites by actually purchasing a ticket, make sure you do it inconspicuously.  Be clean.  Dress inappropriately, like the sexy Italian ladies.  Pretend not to understand Arabic or English.  Or any European language, for that matter, because there’s a guide or employee speaking most major languages of the world.  That, or wait until you get your temporary resident card, and then it’ll only cost you a JD or two to get in.  I got mine last week.

Ok, now onto blogging about more recent events.  I think I’ll skip Jerusalem and just move to Egypt next.  Thanks for reading – leave comments!

For all you out there considering an overnight stay in a Bedouin tent then I suggest you begin saving now. However, if like us you happen to trip over one late at night in the Wadi Rum National Park then grasp this golden opportunity with both hands and enjoy the comfort that they provide.

Needless to say the tour guides were a little irate when they discovered us early the next morning.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Cox & Kings Explores the Wilder Side of Jordan

TAMPA, FL (Nov 23, 2009) — Tour operator Cox & Kings announces a new Private Travel Journey “Hidden Treasures of Jordan.” The tour introduces Jordan to visitors who are looking to connect with the country’s untouched and undiscovered side-both its nature and people. Not only does the tour cover musts for a first time visitor, but also features stays at two new eco-lodges, benefiting local communities and assisting conservation efforts of several nature reserves within the country.

The rugged landscape of the Dana Nature Reserve, extending from the top of the Jordan Rift Valley to the desert lowlands of Wadi Araba, is carefully managed for sustainable use of natural resources and a minimal environmental footprint. The area contains a varied plant life, nearly 150 species of bird life and over 200 recorded mammals and reptiles, including the ibex and mountain gazelle. On a day trek, one will see the occasional Bedouin family herding their goats, camels and sheep through the stark landscape.

Guests on the tour stay at Feynan Lodge, one of the recent environmentally-friendly projects supported by the King and Queen of Jordan. Electricity is generated by solar power and light is furnished by candles and lanterns scattered throughout the 26-room lodge. Simply furnished rooms have an en suite bathroom with hot water and a walk-in shower. The menu uses fresh produce raised by local Bedouins. Evenings at the lodge end with mint tea served under the star on the rooftop terrace.

Near the Dead Sea, the marshland of Azraq Wetlands Reserve is being aggressively restored. Here, guests walk along the Marsh Trail with a naturalist to see birds migrating from Siberia and Scandinavia on their way to Africa. In ancient times the area was an important stopover for camel trains traversing the eastern desert.

On this 13-day, 12-night, program, guests will also tour the sites of Petra, Jerash, Madaba, and Kerak. The journey is priced from $6,145 per person double occupancy, includes some meals and all sightseeing with a private guide. The best time to visit Jordan is during spring or fall.

CONTACT
Nicole Beattie
Cox & Kings
(813) 258-3323
nbeattie@coxandkingsusa.com

British bag makers Bedouin has taken upon themselves to create a collection of bags to last you your lifetime. The brand hopes that their high-quality bags with a timeless aesthetic will help turn over a new page in the world of rapid consumerism. With each bag, they take inspiration from the Bedouin tent, a rugged utilitarian design on the exterior met with a luxurious interior. All of Bedouin’s bags feature waterproof materials with high-quality hardware sourced from various places across Europe including Cobra buckles from Austria and zippers from Switzerland.

Inspired by nomadic Bedouin tribes, the Bidoun series by German designer Katrin Greiling for Dubai brand Traffic.

Operation: speed through the rest of the trip. First of all, it feels like years ago. I hardly even remember anything. It’s as though I heard a story of someone else’s awesome trip and I’m just giving a second-hand retelling. Second, I’ve done some awesome stuff I want to eventually get to on this blog. For example, I went to Jerusalem, Ramallah and Tel Aviv last weekend. I’m going to Egypt this upcoming week. So, with that, let’s try to conclude my eid trip as quickly as possible.

The next day we walked up a valley. It took us all day. It was beautiful – there was water in this valley, and hence lush vegetation everywhere. It was surreal walking from an arid desert into a valley oasis, replete with swimming holes for children, palm trees, fresh springs (I drank the water trickling out of a spigot – a whole 3 liters of it, and I live to tell the story). Often we hiked shin-deep in water.

Lushy lush

Of course we were stopped for tea on our way up. These men asked us, “Are you the Israelis?” Apparently a group of Israelis were doing the same hike as us, but in the opposite direction. We met them at the mouth of the valley. “Really? Israeli?” I marveled. Just goes to show… something. I don’t know what. But these Israelis were not afraid to say they were Israeli while in Jordan, and the Jordanians were not about to refuse tea to someone just because their state had violently occupied the homeland of the Palestinian people, who now comprise 75% of the Jordanian population.

Dude had a donkey, so of course we sat on it. Here is me and Sarah on our marital donkey.

Marital donkey

We got to the top and well, realized we didn’t quite know where we were going. Here we are all pissed off because we are exhausted and hungry and lots of us are out of water (not me, I had tons of stream water in my belly and in my bag). I think we were about to reach a boiling point, but then, our shepherd appeared. I think he rode a donkey. I know he was in all white, and was ancient, and seemed like a godsend. He pointed us in the right direction.

We got to the road we needed, but weren’t sure if we should head east or west, or maybe it was north or south? I told you, I’m forgetting these details already. We set up camp and started cooking dinner while we sent a convoy to walk to the nearest town to get a ton of water. Upon their (valiant) return, they surprised me and Ali with a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t even think to ask for any; I had plenty of rolling tobacco left. But it was one of the most considerate things anyone has ever done for me, and from here on out I will keep Alex in a special place in my heart. (Do you hear me waxing nostalgic about cigarettes? I haven’t had one in a week. I hate you.)

Dinner consisted of couscous and cans of beans, corn, and mixed vegetables. I’ve never had anything so delicious. Hunger is the most exquisite of seasonings.

Here is an awesome picture of the moon that night. Thanks Daoud.

Turns out the town we needed to go to was about a day’s walk away. There was nothing interesting between where we set up camp and the town itself. The water-gathering convoy had hitched a ride (for an immodest fee) to the town, and arranged for us to be picked up the next morning. We would save a day and see this leg of the trip in fast-motion.

So, to review, so far we have: a nice night in an eco-lodge at the Dana nature preserve, a hike down Dana valley the next day, camping in Feinan, and then a hike up Wadi Ghuer with all its lushness. Just so we’re all on the same page. It’s been a while.

I don't know who took this. Obviously not me, since I'm being held by Ali as I help pull people up.

Don't sneeze.

I posted a piece that I’m sure that some will find controversial yesterday.  Entitled “A Christian Defense of the Rights of Moslems in a Democracy (or Constitutional Republic) it dealt with comments and demands made by some that Moslems be removed from the military, security services and government positions simply because of religion or ethnicity.  You an see the post here:

http://padresteve.wordpress.com/2009/11/14/a-christian-defense-of-the-rights-of-moslems-and-others-in-a-democracy-or-constitutional-republic/

It generated some heated debate and I am sure that more will come. However I am just going to show a photo montage of the Iraqi military, US employed interpreters and former Iraqi officers helping the Iraqi government and US Forces.  The people of Iraq and much of the Middle East are not a monolithic bloc or extremists as many in this country are prone to believe.  Moslems fight every day against terrorists and are killed by the same kind of extremists who took down the Trade Center Towers and inspired Major Hasan in his shooting at Fort Hood.  They are friends and allies in the war against Moslem terrorists.  I post this article to put a human face on those that are often lumped together as the “enemy” simply because of their religion.

Dinner with Brigadier General Sabah of 1st Brigade of 7th Iraqi Division in Ramadi. A professional soldier and Shia he sees himself as an Iraqi and ally of the US. The Last time we met in January 2008 in passing at the helo terminal in Ramadi he greeted me with a hug in front of his staff and many American soldiers and Marines calling me a friend.

Group Shot with General Sabah, his youngest son, our interpreter, the American Brigade Senior Adviser and my Assistant RP2 Lebron

RP2 Lebron with one of the “Terps” interpreters named “Shaun” originally from Palestine but a Green Bay Packer fan living in Minnesota

Iraqi Children Greeting us in a town along the Euphrates

Iraqi man in traditional garb happy to see us because Americans helped clean out the terrorists from his village

With Iraqi Officers of 7th Division and Marine Advisers at the 2007 Marine Corps Birthday Cake Cutting at Camp Blue Diamond. Trained by the Marines the 7th and the 1st Iraqi Divisions helped turn the Tide in Al Anbar and the 1st went on to liberate Basra and then to Diyala Province

Blessing Advisers of 7th Division as they prepared to go with Iraqis to guard a fuel convoy. Following this the Iraqis asked if I would bless them and their vehicles too, it seems they have some kind of Holy Water too and were willing to take the Christian kind as well.

A man with a Dangerous Job. Iraqi Policeman Escorting Civilians across Route Michigan in Ramadi. Shortly after we took small arms fire and Iraqi Police engaged the target

With the Leaders of an Iraqi Border Force Company a kilometer from Syria, they like all the Iraqis we dealt with were hospitable offering us Ch’ai as well as food on our visit with the adviser team

With a Bedouin Family near the Syrian border on Christmas Eve 2007

Iraqi Border Troops at Border Fort Five near Syria

Proud Bedouin Father and his son

The Bedouin Father serves us Ch’ai and cakes

Iraqi Troops of 7th Division coming back from Patrol on Christmas Day at COP North an isolated post near Syria. While we celebrated they worked and trained.

One of the Iraqi vehicles in one of our convoy’s near Al Qaim pulling security for us to pass. Our convoys generally had about 3 American and 2-3 Iraqi trucks transiting dangerous areas with very few soldiers, nothing more than 240 series or .50 cal machine guns and far away from any big reinforcements should we have been hit

New Iraqi Army Soldiers in Basic Training at Habbiniya. Imagine being far away from your family and know that they are in danger just because you serve in the Army

Chaplains and our Assistants with General  Ali and his staff of the Training and Support Center at Habbinyah. He proudly showed us his well worn Arabic-English Bible. A Moslem he liked it because it had information not in the Koran

Bakers at the Iraqi Army Bakery in Habbinyah the fresh bread is great

With General Falah Hasan..driven from Iraq by Saddam under threat of death he returned from the United States to help rebuild the Iraqi Air Force and advise the Iraq Assistance Group.When asked what branch of Islam he said “My mother was Sunni, my father Shia I don’t know I am an Iraqi”

Of course I had many more interactions with the Iraqis than just these photos.  There was the G-3 Officer at 2nd Brigade of 7th Division who said that he wished that the Iraqis had Christian Priests to serve as Imams because he knew that they would care for the soldiers and families and were not compromised like many Sunni and Shia clergy.  The Iraqi military, Sunni and Shia distrusts most Moslem clergy because of their political militancy and divisiveness during the worst part of the civil war.  At one time they had Imams during the Saddam era but many commanders refused to appoint Imams.  Then there was the Iraqi Company commander at out in the west who tracked me down to meet the “American Imam and thank him” for serving our Marines and for praying for Iraq and its people. He also said to let people know that if something ever happened between the US and “Persia” that most Iraqis would support us. I could go on but needless to say there are millions of Moslems who fight along side of us as well as the American Moslems who serve in our ranks without being traitors like Major Hasan.   

Peace and blessings,

Padre Steve+

January 25, 2004

                A retrospective of Mom and Dad’s holiday trip to the Arabian Penninsula:

                After a long first day of jet-lagged souqing, Mom, Dad, Brian, Georgia, Eric and I ventured out for a Christmas Eve meal.  And, what better way to get in the Christmas spirit than to hob nob with a Filippino Santa Claus at our favorite Japanese restaurant…while be serenaded by Romanian troubadours…playing “La Cucaracha” on the pan flute…in Kuwait?! 

                With the previous night’s multicultural Christmas behind us, we decided to spend Christmas Day in a real Kuwaiti way – at the camel races.  We drove 1,000 miles to what easily could have been Saudi Arabia and arrived in a bizarre universe…where camel racing is exciting.  Women were less than welcome, the track was 5 miles long – thus making a T.V. necessary to watch most of the event.  Betting is not allowed and drinking is, of course, prohibited, taking much of the fun away from the “sport.”  So, Dad instituted his own OTB (which perhaps should have been called ATB: at the track betting) where we all picked a jockey/camel to win.  And, there was a method to our respective madnesses: Dad picked his camels by favorite color….and that color happened to be whichever color the jockey in the lead was wearing at the time.  My strategy:  pick ‘em by the most fashionable uniform.  IN the second race, I picked a jockey wearing a svelt pink number.  I’m STILL waiting for him to cross the finish line!   As a questionable consolation prize, some photographer took my picture.  Feel free to look for me in the society pages of Camel Racing Digest. 

                I’d also like to note for the record that my Christmas lamb was a resounding success.  It may have been the first fully edible meal I’ve made since our arrival.

                Mom and Dad were fascinated by the local culture here.  There were determined to interact with as many people as possible… even despite massive language barriers.  When asked where she was from, my mother wouldn’t reply with the obvious “America” –the largest recognizable geographic entity for most of the inquisitors.  No, instead she’d answer, “New York.” But, it didn’t stop there.  “We live in a little colonial town about 50 miles north of New York City.  It’s called Pound Ridge, but the kids call it ‘the Ridge’. It’s the hideaway of the *stars*.  Did you hear me?  *Of the stars*!  The street signs are made of gold and we laze around all day eating fresh fruit!”

                By the end of the oration, the inquisitors’ eyes had glazed over and had that far-off stare as if to say, “Lady, I’m a snuffy and even I think you’re crazy!”

                Before leaving for Dubai, I took Mom and Dad to the gallery of a local artist Thuraya al-Buqsami.  Getting the artist’s account of her own works raised the quirk level of her already extremely quirky personality.  “I call this one ‘Fate’.”  Ah (you’d think as you tilted your head to the side to understand it.) “Oh no.  Wait.   It’s not called ‘Fate’, I think this is ‘Dog Wearing Birthday Hat’.” Riiiiiigggggghhhht.

                In an effort to match her in “crazy,” while reciting the title to one of her paintings, “Dialogue,”  Dad responds knowingly with an overly philosophical, “Ah, yes…  Dialogos – from the Greek meaning to….”  Oh my god!  It’s called “Dialogue” because two people are talking!  It’s okay though…. Thuraya one-upped him later over tea.  “There are only two things I hate,” she starts with a straight face.  Hmmm…. What could it be?  Her husband was a POW in Iraq during the first Gulf War.  Could it be war?  Saddam?  Injustice? “There are only two things I hate:  bras and women’s purses.”  Yeeesssss, my second guess.

                Leaving Eric behind, we flew to Dubai where during the flight I sat uncomfortably next to a man carrying a 40 gallon jug of clear liquid labeled, “Kum, Kum.”  The day after arriving, we toured a clothing factory as a favor to Dad’s friend who was an investor of said factory.  Treated like royalty and given everything we touched, I surmised we were the only Caucasians this Sri Lankan crowd had seen in a LONG time.  “I feel like a 19^th century British colonist who just bought this factory.” I whispered to my father.  Now very conscious of this, I made an extra effort to smile, determined to be a kindler, gentler industrialist.

                I was convinced that I could not let my parents leave Dubai without a visit to the desert.  We shared our desert trek 4×4 with a great family from Madagascar….the father of which was French, allowing us to communicate in Franglais.  The trek generally followed the same routine as the one we experienced in October.  I knew Dad would love the driving (even despite his now negligible fear of heights).  Somewhat unexpectedly, Mom screamed the entire time.  It was “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” up the dunes.  And, “Oh my GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD” down them.  In an effort to bridge the language barrier, she even threw in a  few, “O…..mon……Dieus” in there.  Finally moving on from our hour long desert rollercoaster, Mom composed herself, breathing a sigh of relief, “Let’s do that AGAIN!”

                After dinner, we watched a “bellydancer.”  I place “bellydancer” in quotes as she was merely dancing with her untoned belly exposed.  She was no talent, but she did twirl a lot.  And, as luck would have it, she called Dad up to bellydance.  The display was as odd as you’re imagining.  Dad and bellydancing just don’t go.  In fact,  I don’t believe Dad moved anything but his ass or lack thereof.  This impressive feat of near motionlessness went on for several minutes (and is thankfully preserved on film).  Until the shy French car companion approached me and suggested, “Ton pere:  il faut, au moins, qu’il bouger les epaules!”

                Ready to return from our adventure, we climbed back into the car suddenly ralizing just how much sand had clung to our faces.  “I need to wash my face!”  I exclaimed.  “No, you don’t!” mom pointed out, “You’ve been exfoliated!”

                Dubai!  Syria later!  I’m looking forward to seeing you, but I guess I’ll have to Kuwait.  O-man!  Get your mind out of the Qatar!  (Yes, soo punny!)

Ahmad Jibril | Adopted form Kalamullah [http://www.kalamullah.com/lionofthedesert.html]

Lion of the Desert is the dramatic action epic of the struggle of Omar Mukhtar, leader of the Muslim resistance in North Africa in the 1920’s and 30’s, against the imperialism of Mussolini and the Italian army. Despite the challenge of overcoming the fascist Italian war machine with only faith and wisdom, the Muslims led by Mukhtar maintained their resistance and refused to be conquered.

Watch full movie on Omar Al Mukhtar, “The Lion of Desert”

We go back in history to 1862 where a young boy of a poor household was born in a town controlled by the Uthmany Khilafa. This young man was brought under the care and tutelage of one of the Shuyookh in his home town when he was at the ripe age of 16 after the death of his father.

He eventually developed a lifestyle of not sleeping more than 3 hours every night in order to get up to pray to Allah at the last third of the night and recite Qur’an until fajr. He memorized the Qur’an (as all knowledgeable people begin their lives) eventually, and was known to have finished his revisions in its entirety every seven days, regardless of the sufferings he encountered in his life.

His courage and wisdom was pronounced, and was an example for people to follow. This was evident on one of his caravan trails to Sudan as a young man. A lion had deterred the people from entering a particular path. Caravans were veered else where for fear of this lion. To distract this lion, people would resort giving it one of their camels, a most prized possession, so they could pass safely. He learned of this lion during the journey, where upon he consequently took it upon himself to face this crisis head on. Unlike other men in the caravan who were dumbstruck by the situation, he carried his shot gun, rode his horse and went after the lion. He came back with the lion’s head much to everyone’s surprise and due gratitude. This earned him the name “Lion of Cyrenaica.”

An upbringing of courage and upright religiosity had a massive effect on him. His character would not only change the course of his tribe, country and people, but also the world of Muslims in the Post Colonial Era.

In his twenties he was known for his maturity beyond his years as well as his wisdom, for he continued to solve tribal disputes. His people listened to him and took his counsel regardless of village or region he found himself in. His manners were known to be great, for he was eloquent, balanced in his speech, and appealing to those who listened. This uniqueness helped him unite the tribes, and later on gather armies to fend off the colonizers.

His thirties was marked by the dawn of the Colonial Era as it began to spread its cancer to the rest of the world. At the time when the world was being ravaged by European nations, this man stood firm for Islam and faced colonizers with his valor. He fought fiercely against the French with a group called Banu Sanus, who would later be known as the Sanusies. For a brief moment, they also fought the British, who were marked by greed and attempted to conquer their land.

As part of a global feast on the so-called less civilized nations, Italy joined the European nations in causing havoc in the southern part of the hemisphere by colonizing North Africa. It was during this time, this man, in his fifties, gathered his forces in the face of an invasion attack against Libya, his homeland.

To pacify his resistance army, the Italians offered him high ranking positions and wealth. In return, they demanded that he surrender and follow their Colonial decree. He responded in a famous quote saying, “I’m not a sweet bite of a meal anyone can swallow. No matter how long they try to change my belief and opinion, Allah is going to let them down.”

They then offered him to leave his town to live closer to the ruling party complete with a monthly salary, but he again refused by saying, “No, I will not leave my country until I meet my lord. Death is closer to me than anything, I’m waiting for it by the minute.”

This man, whose seventy more years of age had not prevented him from fighting, was the soul of his people’s resistance against hopeless odds. He gave his people hope against an army thousands more than his own, equipped with more modern weapons, airplanes and armoury while he and his men starved in the mountains with nothing on their backs but their rifles and horses. After his firm position, as the Ummah is always in need of such legends to lead the people, people gathered around him. He successfully began to strike the Italians where it hurt. He hit firmly, swiftly, and harshly those who thought occupying Muslim lands, oppressing, imprisoning, and torturing Muslims, was going be effortless.

Another man in his nineties named Abu Karayyim, from the Jalu oasis, had fought with him in the deep south. Hunger and disease eventually decimated his people. The Italians soon stepped up operations by burning and pillaging villages. Women, children and the elderly were not spared. During their weakest point, people were gathered and placed in concentration camps.

The Sanusi, Muhammad az-Zaway, who once fought with him against the French, attempted to persuade him to retreat to Egypt with the rest of those who fought against the French. But, this man refused to turn his back on the enemy knowing well that his chances are dim against a force that was swelling by the minute.

When asked why he continued the fight, he stated that he fought for his religion, and he sought no other than to get the occupiers of his lands. As to fighting, he said that was a fard , regardless of the outcome as victory comes from Allah. He used to refuse any peace talks with the colonizers saying we have nothing but to fight the occupying enemies of Allah.

After countless battles, he was wounded and captured alive. He and his men defended themselves until he and one of his companions were left. At last

his horse was shot dead under him, causing him to fall to the ground. He was shackled and brought to a city called Suluq, where the Italian military post was established.

This man believed Jihad was ordained upon every able Muslim while his homeland was occupied by the colonizers. With his faith, heroism and courage he earned the respect of even his enemies.

Captured in his 70’s.

The military officer who interrogated him said, “When he came to my office I imagined to see someone like the thousand of murabiteen who I met in the desert wars. His hands were shackeled, he had broken bones caused by fighting, dragging himself barely able to walk. He was a man not like normal men even though the affect that he was apprehended had shown upon him. He stood in my office as we asked him and he answered in a calm clear collective voice. When he gathered to leave, the brightness of his face like a sunshine amazed me and shook my heart. My lips shivered towards the end of the conversation whereby I ordered him back to his cell to stand before a court in the evening.”

He was a legend who was firm in his religion at a time when the leaders of his country emigrated (as they do today ) to surrender to the Italians. The biggest scholars of his time from the Sanusies, who previously fought with him against the French and the British, did not come to his aid in time. Instead, many of them became loyal to the Italians by giving them Muslim lands in exchange for clemency, montly salaries, and freedom from taxation. Such is true for Muslims today.

On the contrary, this man took out his Qur’an, held it, and gave an oath to Allah that he would not stop fighting the occupying oppressors even if it meant fighting them alone until victory had been attained or that he becomes a martyr. In the last twenty years of his life, he led and personally fought in 1000 battles.

In shackles, after his capture and brought to Saluq.

When the Italian general made him a final offer to make him their puppet and be allowed to live like the other leaders of his people, he answered, “I shall not cease to fight against thee and thy people until either you leave my country or I leave my life. And I swear by Him who knows whaht is in men’s hearts that if my ands were not bound this very moment, I would fight you with my bare hands, old and broken as I am..”

It was then that the Italian general laughed and ordered him to be hung after a frontal saving face act of a mock trial. Even before the court was in session a rope outside the court house hung waiting him.

His hanging took place before hundreds of tribes in 1931. With the intent to scare the Muslims, the Italians did not succeed in doing this. The opposite had taken place. His hanging shook the entire Muslim world, and numerous resistances took place specifically in North Africa.

May Allah raise his position in paradise.

The Italians took pictures of him in shackles, surrounded by smiling Italian generals, and those who expressed happiness for his hanging. They did not realize that it is those very same shackles and rope hanging around his neck in the hands of his enemies fighting for the sake of Allah that would become the envy of every true Muslim.

The man, whose mug shot spoke his legacy, is none other than Omar AlMukhtar. His legacy will live until the day of judgement, inshallah. With his blood, he drew the stories of victory, he became a legend of the legends, and a guide for those who wanted to live in honor at a time of humiliation.

The surrendered modernists and disbelieving scholars of his time were not imprisoned nor hung. They died a normal death, possibly even in luxury and wealth, under the protection of the occupying Italians. However, they died and their names died with them. Jahannam is the abode of those who ally themselves with the kuffar colonizers over the Muslims. Omar AlMukhtar lived, and fought hard in the days of his life. He was shackled, imprisoned, then hung. But his legacy lives on and paradise, inshallah, is the resort of the martyrs.

September 16, 1931. His hanging in Saluq.

Omar AlMukhtar was attached to Allah, depending on Him, and accepting that which Allah had written for him. He asked Allah to become a martyr and this what he has attained, inshAllah.

Written in the one third end of the night of Oct. 12, 2004 by Ahmad Jibril

Ahmad Jibril | Adopted form Kalamullah [http://www.kalamullah.com/lionofthedesert.html]

Lion of the Desert is the dramatic action epic of the struggle of Omar Mukhtar, leader of the Muslim resistance in North Africa in the 1920’s and 30’s, against the imperialism of Mussolini and the Italian army. Despite the challenge of overcoming the fascist Italian war machine with only faith and wisdom, the Muslims led by Mukhtar maintained their resistance and refused to be conquered.

Watch full movie on Omar Al Mukhtar, “The Lion of Desert”

We go back in history to 1862 where a young boy of a poor household was born in a town controlled by the Uthmany Khilafa. This young man was brought under the care and tutelage of one of the Shuyookh in his home town when he was at the ripe age of 16 after the death of his father.

He eventually developed a lifestyle of not sleeping more than 3 hours every night in order to get up to pray to Allah at the last third of the night and recite Qur’an until fajr. He memorized the Qur’an (as all knowledgeable people begin their lives) eventually, and was known to have finished his revisions in its entirety every seven days, regardless of the sufferings he encountered in his life.

His courage and wisdom was pronounced, and was an example for people to follow. This was evident on one of his caravan trails to Sudan as a young man. A lion had deterred the people from entering a particular path. Caravans were veered else where for fear of this lion. To distract this lion, people would resort giving it one of their camels, a most prized possession, so they could pass safely. He learned of this lion during the journey, where upon he consequently took it upon himself to face this crisis head on. Unlike other men in the caravan who were dumbstruck by the situation, he carried his shot gun, rode his horse and went after the lion. He came back with the lion’s head much to everyone’s surprise and due gratitude. This earned him the name “Lion of Cyrenaica.”

An upbringing of courage and upright religiosity had a massive effect on him. His character would not only change the course of his tribe, country and people, but also the world of Muslims in the Post Colonial Era.

In his twenties he was known for his maturity beyond his years as well as his wisdom, for he continued to solve tribal disputes. His people listened to him and took his counsel regardless of village or region he found himself in. His manners were known to be great, for he was eloquent, balanced in his speech, and appealing to those who listened. This uniqueness helped him unite the tribes, and later on gather armies to fend off the colonizers.

His thirties was marked by the dawn of the Colonial Era as it began to spread its cancer to the rest of the world. At the time when the world was being ravaged by European nations, this man stood firm for Islam and faced colonizers with his valor. He fought fiercely against the French with a group called Banu Sanus, who would later be known as the Sanusies. For a brief moment, they also fought the British, who were marked by greed and attempted to conquer their land.

As part of a global feast on the so-called less civilized nations, Italy joined the European nations in causing havoc in the southern part of the hemisphere by colonizing North Africa. It was during this time, this man, in his fifties, gathered his forces in the face of an invasion attack against Libya, his homeland.

To pacify his resistance army, the Italians offered him high ranking positions and wealth. In return, they demanded that he surrender and follow their Colonial decree. He responded in a famous quote saying, “I’m not a sweet bite of a meal anyone can swallow. No matter how long they try to change my belief and opinion, Allah is going to let them down.”

They then offered him to leave his town to live closer to the ruling party complete with a monthly salary, but he again refused by saying, “No, I will not leave my country until I meet my lord. Death is closer to me than anything, I’m waiting for it by the minute.”

This man, whose seventy more years of age had not prevented him from fighting, was the soul of his people’s resistance against hopeless odds. He gave his people hope against an army thousands more than his own, equipped with more modern weapons, airplanes and armoury while he and his men starved in the mountains with nothing on their backs but their rifles and horses. After his firm position, as the Ummah is always in need of such legends to lead the people, people gathered around him. He successfully began to strike the Italians where it hurt. He hit firmly, swiftly, and harshly those who thought occupying Muslim lands, oppressing, imprisoning, and torturing Muslims, was going be effortless.

Another man in his nineties named Abu Karayyim, from the Jalu oasis, had fought with him in the deep south. Hunger and disease eventually decimated his people. The Italians soon stepped up operations by burning and pillaging villages. Women, children and the elderly were not spared. During their weakest point, people were gathered and placed in concentration camps.

The Sanusi, Muhammad az-Zaway, who once fought with him against the French, attempted to persuade him to retreat to Egypt with the rest of those who fought against the French. But, this man refused to turn his back on the enemy knowing well that his chances are dim against a force that was swelling by the minute.

When asked why he continued the fight, he stated that he fought for his religion, and he sought no other than to get the occupiers of his lands. As to fighting, he said that was a fard , regardless of the outcome as victory comes from Allah. He used to refuse any peace talks with the colonizers saying we have nothing but to fight the occupying enemies of Allah.

After countless battles, he was wounded and captured alive. He and his men defended themselves until he and one of his companions were left. At last

his horse was shot dead under him, causing him to fall to the ground. He was shackled and brought to a city called Suluq, where the Italian military post was established.

This man believed Jihad was ordained upon every able Muslim while his homeland was occupied by the colonizers. With his faith, heroism and courage he earned the respect of even his enemies.

Captured in his 70’s.

The military officer who interrogated him said, “When he came to my office I imagined to see someone like the thousand of murabiteen who I met in the desert wars. His hands were shackeled, he had broken bones caused by fighting, dragging himself barely able to walk. He was a man not like normal men even though the affect that he was apprehended had shown upon him. He stood in my office as we asked him and he answered in a calm clear collective voice. When he gathered to leave, the brightness of his face like a sunshine amazed me and shook my heart. My lips shivered towards the end of the conversation whereby I ordered him back to his cell to stand before a court in the evening.”

He was a legend who was firm in his religion at a time when the leaders of his country emigrated (as they do today ) to surrender to the Italians. The biggest scholars of his time from the Sanusies, who previously fought with him against the French and the British, did not come to his aid in time. Instead, many of them became loyal to the Italians by giving them Muslim lands in exchange for clemency, montly salaries, and freedom from taxation. Such is true for Muslims today.

On the contrary, this man took out his Qur’an, held it, and gave an oath to Allah that he would not stop fighting the occupying oppressors even if it meant fighting them alone until victory had been attained or that he becomes a martyr. In the last twenty years of his life, he led and personally fought in 1000 battles.

In shackles, after his capture and brought to Saluq.

When the Italian general made him a final offer to make him their puppet and be allowed to live like the other leaders of his people, he answered, “I shall not cease to fight against thee and thy people until either you leave my country or I leave my life. And I swear by Him who knows whaht is in men’s hearts that if my ands were not bound this very moment, I would fight you with my bare hands, old and broken as I am..”

It was then that the Italian general laughed and ordered him to be hung after a frontal saving face act of a mock trial. Even before the court was in session a rope outside the court house hung waiting him.

His hanging took place before hundreds of tribes in 1931. With the intent to scare the Muslims, the Italians did not succeed in doing this. The opposite had taken place. His hanging shook the entire Muslim world, and numerous resistances took place specifically in North Africa.

May Allah raise his position in paradise.

The Italians took pictures of him in shackles, surrounded by smiling Italian generals, and those who expressed happiness for his hanging. They did not realize that it is those very same shackles and rope hanging around his neck in the hands of his enemies fighting for the sake of Allah that would become the envy of every true Muslim.

The man, whose mug shot spoke his legacy, is none other than Omar AlMukhtar. His legacy will live until the day of judgement, inshallah. With his blood, he drew the stories of victory, he became a legend of the legends, and a guide for those who wanted to live in honor at a time of humiliation.

The surrendered modernists and disbelieving scholars of his time were not imprisoned nor hung. They died a normal death, possibly even in luxury and wealth, under the protection of the occupying Italians. However, they died and their names died with them. Jahannam is the abode of those who ally themselves with the kuffar colonizers over the Muslims. Omar AlMukhtar lived, and fought hard in the days of his life. He was shackled, imprisoned, then hung. But his legacy lives on and paradise, inshallah, is the resort of the martyrs.

September 16, 1931. His hanging in Saluq.

Omar AlMukhtar was attached to Allah, depending on Him, and accepting that which Allah had written for him. He asked Allah to become a martyr and this what he has attained, inshAllah.

Written in the one third end of the night of Oct. 12, 2004 by Ahmad Jibril

Author Sian Hall offers her own insights through her extensive study on Africa, the history, the people, the land and the African dogs in her book, “The Dogs of Africa”.

Dogs fit in extremely well with ancient nomadic lifestyles, where great distances were covered in search of game. The dog was involved in the family group and regarded as a permanent member of the camp, vital in driving the herds, guarding the camp and an aid in the hunt. This effect is very evident in some of the African dogs. The Rhodesian Ridgeback, a descendent of the nomadic Khoi dog, regards people as much more important than property. Unlike working breeds, the Ridgeback guards territory because it belongs to his family, not simply because he is territorial.

In contrast, the Canaan Dog of Israel, also from nomadic ancestry, behaves with very different standards. This breed is under the impression that the territory belongs to him together with all the moveable property and humans that come with it. He guards the humans simply because they come with the property. The Canaan Dog also has the ability to turn from domesticated to wild, or vice versa, as the situation dictates, offering him the greater opportunity of returning to the wilds if his home situation in the Bedouin camps became too miserable.

The indigenous Southern Dogs of Africa, with their loyal disposition, will not leave their domestic setting and owner no matter how horribly treated. In between, are the dogs of the Bantu-speakers.  For these dogs, their home ground and property is defended, no matter who inhabits the settlement.

Further south, in the arid searing sands of the Kalahari regions, the egalitarian Bushmen of Africa included their dogs in the Zhavo relationship of gift-sharing. Dogs were warmly welcomed to share the food with their owners around the campfire. Whatever was available in camp was shared equally among members – if the dog’s owners were well fed, so was the dog. The reverse held true as well. When the Bushmen came upon hard times, the dog would suffer just as a member of the band.

The lifestyle of the Bushmen included myths and legends that read like fairy-tales, many featuring animals thought to be people and vice versa. An ideology that helps explain why the dogs of the Bushmen were so well kept and highly integrated into their society. The Bushmen saw a world in which animals lived side by side with humans and other creatures, a world in which there were no class distinctions and all creatures were important in the eye of the maker.

The Dogs of Africa provides a detailed examination of dog breeds that have historic connections to the African continent: the Southern African Dogs, Basenji, Canaan Dog, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Saluki, Azawakh, Sloughi, Podenco Canario, Cirneco Dell’Etna, Pharaoh Hound, Ibizan Hound, Presa Canario, Boerboel, Bichon family, Maltese, Bichon Frise, Coton De Tulear, and the Maltese Poodle. Hall paints vivid word pictures of the physical, cultural and historical environments in which these dogs of Africa evolved. She weaves a breathtaking journey through the vast Serengeti, the searing arid deserts, the towering pyramids of Egypt, the granite boulders of the Zimbabwe and the dense, impenetrable jungles. Find the book at Alpine Publications (www.alpinepub.com).

“I could only get on at all by taking “nature” into my confidence and my account, by treating my monstrous ordeal as a push in a direction unusual, of course, and unpleasant, but demanding after all, for a fair front, only another turn of the screw of ordinary human virtue.” – Henry James, The Turn of the Screw

The following occurred while in Egypt in the fall of 1997 when a fellow student from Conn went missing shortly before Halloween.  The worst was assumed for an American college student alone in a foreign land.  Without warning several days after his disappearance he reappeared at the dorms and told us of what had happened; this is his story:

It was mid October, even though it didn’t feel anything like autumn to us within the fragrant smog of Cairo.  We were preparing costumes for an upcoming U.S. Embassy Halloween party and Oliver’s costume was the traditional attire of a Bedouin tribesman.  The Bedouin are nomadic peoples who live throughout the Middle East, and who usually live as outsiders within their own countries.  I think the place of the Bedouin within Egyptian culture fascinated Oliver, as it was a classic example of native peoples whose fidelity to their traditions had kept them apart from assimilation into the mainstream culture.  The inspiration for his costume was a Bedouin dagger he had recently purchased at the Khan Khalili bazaar. All he needed to complete his costume was a robe, so he put the dagger in his backpack and got on a bus to head to a particular shop in one of the outskirts of the city.

After walking for a while, searching for the shop he realized he was lost.  Dusk was approaching so he tried heading back toward where the bus had dropped him off.   Retracing his steps, the streets falling quiet, he continued on when to his right he heard what he thought were the sounds of muffled screaming.  He backed up slowly and in the shadows of a small alley he saw a man and a woman struggling.  Frozen, not knowing what to do, only he could know what flashed through his mind in those few seconds.  He realized as the man ripped the woman’s clothes that this was no domestic dispute but a rape in progress.  He walked into the alley, moving closer.  Quickly, Oliver shouted at the attacker hoping to scare him off by taking him by surprise.  Instead, in that split second the attacker jumped up and instead of running, swung round and lunged at Oliver with his fist.

The next thing Oliver remembered, he was lying on his back with a warm sensation of blood running down his face.  Awareness slowly came back to him and he realized that only a few feet away the woman lay sobbing, pinned to the ground, the attacker on top of her.  For seconds that seemed to last for minutes he fought the overwhelming urge to drift back into unconsciousness.   Closing his eyes, all he could hear were her cries in his ears.  In that moment he remembered the Bedouin dagger.  With all his will, Oliver pulled the dagger from his pack and rose to his feet.  Quietly he approached from behind.  Suddenly, Oliver pulled the attacker up by the shoulders and swung him around to face him.  As the attacker wheeled around to strike, Oliver raised his arm and sliced the dagger across his face!  Down he brought the knife and with every ounce of strength he buried the blade into the attacker’s midsection.  Waves of pain and adrenaline overtook him and before Oliver lost consciousness he saw the attacker doubled over, stumbling off out of the alley.

The next thing Oliver remembered he awoke in a hospital bed surrounded by a doctor and two Arab men in western suits.  They explained that he was in Alexandria, 250 kilometers from Cairo.  Before he could ask questions, one of the men in suits began to thank him profusely for saving his daughter’s life, and told him that anything he wanted they would give him, that whatever he wished for to just ask.   Oliver simply asked that his nose, which was shattered by the blow from the brass knuckles the attacker had been wearing, be fixed and that he have a train ticket back to school in Cairo.  The men told him that the reason he was brought to Alexandria was that the man’s brother was one of the best plastic surgeons in Egypt.   They showed him a mirror and removed the bandage from his face.  His nose had already been repaired, however they couldn’t find any pictures of him to model the reconstruction after. The surgeon hadn’t had any experience working on African Americans before so the only thing they had to go on was a Tupac CD  they found in Oliver’s backpack.

With his nose bandaged, standing around in the courtyard of the AUC dorm, almost a week after he went missing, Oliver told us this story.  When he was finished and we were all asking a thousand questions, Oliver’s roommate Chris said “Do you know what’s weird, do you remember that dream you told me about last week?”  In Oliver’s dream a huge snake rose up and confronted him.  The snake lunged forward and bit Oliver’s face and he in turn sliced the snake in two with a sword.  As we all stood around listening to this we couldn’t believe our ears, but Oliver really did end up with Tupac’s nose and the dream of the snake further re-enforced that we all really were engaged in some larger subconscious drama that was being played out.  We couldn’t explain how a dream could have foretold of events that were yet to take place, but we couldn’t deny the powerful truth of what we witnessed.  I personally will never forget the chills that ran up my spine upon hearing this and it was to me at least, as Henry James had said, another turn of the screw of ordinary human virtue.

The Pharonic Cobra of Lower Egypt

FOOTLIGHTS: Last week Vanessa Williams started her fourth season as Ugly Betty’s ever-scheming yet oddly lovable magazine editor Wilhelmina Slater,

WILLIAMS: Sondheim serenader

a roie which has won her three consecutive Emmy Award nominations to date. This week the former Miss America is plotting her return to Broadway with powerhouse Barbara Cook in a new nightly tribute to Stephen Sondheim. Williams starred as the Witch in the 2003 revival of Sondheim’s Into The Woods. “Ugly Betty is my priority,” she says candidly, “and we shoot in the spring — so there are going to be some days that I may not be able to do the Sondheim show. But we’re going to do as much as we can so I can do an eight-show week.” The new musical, Sondheim On

CHENOWITH: Bacharach baby?

Sondheim, will be directed by her Into The Woods champion James Lapine and is scheduled to open early next year … remember Shirley MacLaine and Jack Lemmon in the 1960 Billy Wilder film classic The Apartment? Remember Jerry Orbach and Jill O’Hara in the 1968 Broadway musical version, Promises, Promises? Remember all those hummable Burt Bacharach-Hal David tunes like I’ll Never Fall In Love Again? Word on the Great White Way is that Wicked scene-stealer Kristin Chenowith will return

LAHTI: Carnage

to the New York stage to play opposite Will & Grace funnyman Sean Hayes in a modernized 2010 revival of the hit musical. Stay tuned … and here’s one for the Change Partners & Dance Dept.: A new cast for Yasmina Reza’s Tony-winning black comedy God of Carnage will begin performances on November 17 on Broadway. Christine Lahti will replace Marcia Gay Harden; Annie Potts has signed on to replace Hope Davis; Jimmy Smits will replace Jeff Daniels; and original West End cast member Ken Stott will recreate his performance as Michael, replacing James

SMITS: replacing Jeff Daniels

Gandolfini.

FLICKERS: The 10^th annual Planet in Focus film festival, which opened here yesterday, features over 85 films on environmental issues from 25 countries, with pre- and post-screening discussions and panels and special programs for children and schools. A special section of the festival, Land & Conflict screenings, include Canadian premieres of Voices from El Sayed. The 2008 film set in the Bedouin village that is home to the largest community of deaf people in the world; and Jerusalem Moments 2009, a showcase of short films by seven young Palestinian and Israeli directors. To get all the W5, click here … and following a successful pitch at RomaFictionFest, veteran producer Pat Ferns is teaming up with Britain’s Scenario Films to

TOMLIN: class consciousness

develop Shakespeare in Venice, a dramatic series in the tradition of Shakespeare in Love. Based on exhaustive research by Alessandro Bettero, the screenplays will be co-written with award-winning British screenwriter Gareth Jones … and David Cronenberg is set to appear at tonight’s TIFF Cinemateque screening of Videodrome, his prescient 1983 thriller with James Woods, Deborah Harry and Sonja Smits, tonight at 9 pm at the AGO.

QUOTABLE QUOTES: “I lived in a racially diverse and financially diverse neighborhood and I knew who was favored and who wasn’t and who had “nicer” material circumstances and who didn’t. It was the practice at our grade school in those days to stand and tell the class what you’d received for Christmas that year and it was gruesome because it was clear when a kid was lying or exaggerating out of shame, and I can remember being one of them. You might say you’d gotten a sweater and boots and a new coat and all kinds of things that you never showed up in. I can’t imagine what teacher would support such a practice today unless it was used anonymously to raise political and social consciousness and make it an illuminating exercise.”

The speaker? Lily Tomlin, on becoming class conscious at the age of 7.

MAPLE LEAF JOKES? WE’VE GOT A MILLION OF ‘EM!:

Q: What do the Toronto Maple Leafs and possums have in common?
A. Both play dead at home and get killed on the road.

TOMORROW:

Liz Smith goes on a tear, Jacqueline Bisset goes Italian,

and Ragtime returns to Broadway — without Garth.

-/-

The BBC writes:

In fact, there are thousands of Muslim Bedouin who serve in the Israeli army, or IDF, and even bear arms against their fellow Muslims in the occupied West Bank and Gaza.

Click here to read the story.

Wow, this life is exhausting.

First I had a three week vacation to Yemen. I spent my time chatting and smoking shisha and drinking tea and going to coffee & chocolate shop grand openings and magazine launch parties and cultural debates and wandering around and taking pictures of rainbows and sleeping away the Ramadan daytime. It’s not a pretty life, but somebody’s gotta do it.

Then I was compelled to sit through a grueling week-long orientation in Amman. I was forced to listen to presentations on security & safety, foreign travel, insurance plans, research clearances, how to get paid, establishing residency visas, renting apartments, signing up for classes, and other such nonsense. For four hours a day! How was I supposed to feel rested for nights on the town if I had to wake up at 7am every day?

Then I had a whole week of classes. I was pretty sure I’d be fluent by the end of it, but it turns out I have a lot of work to do. They placed me in an advanced level where the textbook answer key I brought with me from home no longer applies. We only read the newspaper and short stories, but thank God for Google translate.

Just as I thought I’d be crushed by the weight of all these responsibilities, the holy month of Ramadan ended and eid al-fitr began. Without nine days off, I don’t think I’d have made it this far in the whole “immersion abroad” thing.

To maximize cultural exchange, myself and eight other Americans grouped up for Travel ™! You should have seen us, all gussied up for Nature. Our titanium-alloy-spined backpacks were stuffed with GORP and our Kleen Kanteens swung lazily as we departed.

My friend’s sister joined us for the trip. Meet Sarah, a five-foot two-inch ball of intensity. I gave her slow instructions on how to get from the airport to the mall near my house, including such gems as, “If you ask nicely, someone will probably let you use their phone, or you can find an “ItiSilAt, which means “connections” or “communications” – a phone place, get it?!” Her flight arrived at 9am, and I started to wonder about her come noon. She calls. “Did you make it? Did you find a bus?” No, she’s waiting for me at the mall already. I walk up and she steps out of a Mercedes, smiles big and hugs me. “If we want to go to the Dead Sea or to Aqaba or Syria, Mohammed here says he’ll take us. I met his mom, she made me some great snacks. Thanks Mohammed!” Mohammed doesn’t speak English.

Sarah never takes the elevator, is a Northwestern triathlete, and gently comments upon your lifestyle: “Oh nice! I haven’t listened to English music since coming to the Middle East, let alone country western!”

She’s been in Egypt since June, and speaks better Arabic than I do.

The following day we show up at the bus station for the beginning of my much-needed recess. I don’t know why the price is suddenly double what it should have been, and I never found out why, because Sarah took care of it before I could even inquire.

A couple hours later, we’re at the outskirts of Dana, the largest nature preserve in Jordan, which is run by the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RSCN). Citrus and olive trees join 600 other species of plants alongside 45 species of mammals, 25 of which are endangered. The beautiful stone village of Dana, dating back to the 1400s, is largely uninhabited now, because this generation a cement factory was built. The residents left the historic village on the cliffs for a new one closer to the factory. Six-thousand year-old copper mines are dotted along the reserve; they were the largest metal smelting operations in the area and are even mentioned in the Bible. (Anyone who has read Lonely Planet: Jordan will see that I am borrowing heavily here.) There are a 100 different archaeological sites in the preserve, many of which have yet to be excavated or explored. Man, without this guidebook, for me Dana would have remained just something stunning to look at and walk through.

Even though we were planning on walking five days all the way to Petra, when the bus driver asked us if we wanted to be dropped off at our camp site or if we wanted to walk there, we of course wanted to walk. We stepped lightly despite our heavy bags, fueled by the self-righteousness in knowing that our $55 spent to sleep on a mattress on the floor in a stylized Bedouin tent was going to support the Conservation of Nature (TM).

Here we are, start of the trip, fresh off the bus.
(Left to right: Alex, Ali, Judith, Allison, Caroline, Regina, Me, Sarah.  David, not shown, took the photo.)

This was not about finding an authentic experience. Had we wanted to experience Dana like many Ammanis with disposable income, we would have rolled up in a BMW 4×4, seen the provided tents, noticed the fact that the entire place (including their hot water) was powered by solar panels, gotten back in our SUV, cranked up the AC and some bumpin’ Arab pop music, and sped directly to the Dead Sea Ritz Carlton for a night of all you can eat buffets served next to three swimming pools, followed by his and her facials given by Thai massage therapists. So, in this sense, thankfully for this trip we marched to the beat of our American drum. We are Indiana Jones, we are MacGyver, we are in search of Adventure and we’re on the right track.

It was the last day of the holy month of Ramadan, wherein Muslims fast and nothing passes lips from sunup to sundown. Fasting is a reminder of the plight of the poor and hungry, an emptying exercise widening one’s communication channel with God. Sprinkled throughout the month are devotional prayer sessions, and plenty of time for reflection and renewal. For non-Muslim foreigners, Ramadan is marked by dragging hard and fast on cigarettes behind buildings, enjoying secret lunches seasoned with guilt, and thoughts of, “Man, this would be so much better if I just fasted too.” Not wanting to appear inconsiderate during this last high holy day, we strayed off the path as we neared the campground to have a hidden lunch. The camp manager eventually pulled up in his truck and asked why the heck we felt the need to hide. He was waiting to orient us with the site.

A cluster of permanent sleeping tents hug the cliffside, and large open shade structures border the area. Using the phrase shade structure makes me think of Burning Man, but there were no flame-throwing three-story elephants marching through this desert. Shame.

(Photo Courtesy of Sarah?)

Still amped up from our first week of class and still fresh from only a bus ride, we flipped flash cards and drilled each other on new vocab as we relaxed through the hottest part of the day. A few hours before  sunset we hiked up a trail to check out stunning views from the valleys below.

(Thanks Sarah.  Daoud?)

(Thanks Daoud)

That night they served us an awesome dinner, and shared stories and sage-infused tea over a campfire. Apparently Jordanians never smile, an Egyptian will try to convince you the empty bottle of Coke is actually full before selling it to you, and Syrians speak excruciatingly slowly. We learned of a honey thief and and lies and secret passwords, and how neighbors solve problems without violence or angry confrontation. Why take things to the courts when cunning and guile get your honey back?

I sleep early and hard, and thus ends day one of my backpacking trip.

For a compilation of photos from the trip, click here. But check back, because people still have to upload their photos (Guilty.).

A one of a kind original painting. “TRUE FRIENDS“ is a UNIQUE FANTASY ARTWORK! Mystical, Ethereal and Fantastical. 

THEME: A Bedouin’s Horse stumbles into a secret forest and meets an Angel who becomes a True Friend! A Beautiful piece of art from Laura’s studio to enhance any decor which fits into the realms of fantasy.

A Wonderful gift for Horse Lovers, Arabian Horse Enthusiasts and Angel Collectors.

YEAR CREATED: 2008  ~TITLE: “TRUE FRIENDS”   ~24 x 36″ LARGE CANVAS

MEDIUM: ACRYLICS AND INK- Gallerywrap Sides are painted  VIBRANT PURPLE.

Allaah Almighty says (what means): “To Allaah belongs the dominion of the heavens and the earth; He creates what He wills. He gives to whom He wills female [children], and He gives to whom He wills males. Or He makes them [both] males and females, and He renders whom He wills barren. Indeed, He is Knowing and Competent.” [Quran 49:50] Allaah is the One, based on His ultimate wisdom, who grants whomever He wills sons and daughters; He grants sons only to whomever He wills, and grants daughters only to whomever He wills, and if He so wills, He makes whomever He wills infertile.

We notice in the above verse that the mention of daughters preceded that of sons, and the scholars commented on this saying: “This is to hearten daughters and encourage kindness towards them, because many fathers feel burdened by receiving a daughter. The common practice of the people during the pre-Islamic era was to hate receiving daughters, to the extent that they would bury them alive; therefore, it is as if Allaah is saying to people: `This inferior child in your estimation takes precedence in My scale.’ He also mentions daughters first to indicate their weakness, and that they are therefore more deserving of care and attention.”

Such honouring of daughters is the complete opposite of how people were accustomed to dealing with females in the pre-Islamic era, when they would degrade women and consider them a part of their wealth, and if news of a baby girl would come to any of them, it would be as if he was hit by a thunderstorm; Allaah says (what means): which means: “And when one of them is informed of [the birth of] a female, his face becomes dark, and he suppresses grief. He hides himself from the people because of the ill of which he has been informed. Should he keep it in humiliation or bury it in the ground?  Unquestionably, evil is what they decide.” [Quran 58:59]

It is said that some enemies of Qays ibn ‘Aasim At-Tameemi, who was a pre-Islamic Arab, attacked his premises and captured his daughter. Later, one of these enemies married her. After some time, the clan of Qays and that of his enemies reconciled, so they gave this daughter of his the freedom to go back to her father or remain with her husband, and she preferred to stay with her husband. At that point, Qays took a pledge upon himself to bury alive any new daughter that he would receive, and the Arabs imitated him after that. It was, therefore, this man who introduced this evil practice, and thus he will shoulder his own sin as well as the sin of all those who did it thereafter.

One of the companions  who had killed his daughter in the era that preceded Islam narrated his story: ”We would worship idols in the pre-Islamic era and kill our daughters. I had a daughter, who, when she was old enough to comprehend and talk, would rejoice whenever she saw me and would immediately respond. One day, I called her and told her to follow me, so she did, until we reached a well that belonged to my tribe. I then took her by her hand and threw her in the well, and the last thing I heard her cry was: ‘O father! O father!’” (Ad-Daarimi)

During the era that preceded Islam, there were two methods that people used to kill their daughters:

At the time of the delivery of the child, a man would order his wife to give birth next to a hole dug in the ground; if the newborn was a male, she would return home with him, otherwise, she would throw her into the pit and bury her alive, or:

When the daughter reached six years of age, the man would tell his wife to adorn and perfume her, then he would take her to a well in the desert and tell her to look down into the well; when she would do this, he would push her into it from behind.

There were some men among these people who would forbid such acts, such as Sa’sa’ah ibn Naajiyah At-Tameemi, who would go to those attempting to kill their daughter offering money to ransom their lives.

There are people nowadays who share these same pre-Islamic beliefs; if they are granted only girls, which is of course something decreed only by Allaah, they become angry, discontent and grieved.

With the advent of Islam, the darkness of that era vanished and Allaah enjoined kindness, love and compassion towards girls. Taking good care of girls was encouraged, as was giving them special attention in the process of their upbringing. In fact, Islam has designated a special reward for raising them that is not granted for raising sons. Anas  reported that the Prophet  said: ”He who raises two daughters until their puberty will be with me inParadise like this”, and he symbolized the proximity by showing two of his fingers with a slight gap between them.” (Muslim)

`Aa’ishah  related: “A woman by the name of Jameelah came to me with her two daughters. She asked me for charity but found nothing with me except a date, which I gave her. She divided it between her two daughters and ate nothing herself; then, she got up and left. After this, the Messenger of Allaah  came, so I narrated this story to him; he  said: “He who is involved (in the responsibility) of (nurturing) daughters and is generous to them, will have them as a fortification for himself against the Hellfire.” (Al-Bukhaari & Muslim) In another narration of this incident, `Aa’ishah related: “A poor woman came to me with her two daughters. I gave her three dates; she gave each of them a date and was about to eat the third one when one of her daughters asked her for it, so she divided it between her two daughters and ate nothing herself, and I liked what she did. After this, the Messenger of Allaah  came, so I told him what she did, and he  said: ’Allaah obligated Paradise for her due to this date, and (also) freed her from Hell.’”(Muslim)

Pay close attention to wording of the following narration: the Prophet  said: “He who is tested by (the guardianship) of daughters….” Why did he use the word: “…tested…”? He said it because raising them is a responsibility and a test from Allaah to see how His slave would act: Will he be kind to them? Will he raise them correctly?

The nature of this responsibility was further clarified in other narrations, such as: “If he patiently feeds them and endows them with clothing …” (Ibn Maajah)., and:  “…Provides for them and marries them off…” (At-Tabaraani)., and: “…Properly raises them and fears Allaah in the manner in which he deals with them.” (At-Tirmithi)

This is what is required when dealing with daughters: kindness, which results in Paradise, as the Prophet  said: “Whoever Allaah hasgiven two daughters and is kind towards them, will have them as a reason for him to be admitted into Paradise.” And: “Whoever Allaah has given three daughters and he perseveres through raising them, will have them as a shield for him from the Hellfire on the Day of Resurrection.”

A daughter is a great bounty and an honour granted by Allaah, Imaam Al-Hasan  said: “Girls are a source of reward and sons are a blessing; rewards are in one’s favour (on the Day of Judgement) whereas one will be held accountable for blessings.”

Thus, it is incorrect to believe that one has been humiliated by being granted a girl; rather it is an honour, a bounty and a gate towards Paradise. Daughters are a greate responsibility to rear, and entail greater expenditure, and this is why the reward for raising them correctly is greater than that for a son.

Once, one of the leaders of the believers was receiving people when a small daughter of his entered the room, so he kissed her; a Bedouin was also in attendance and saw this, so he mentioned daughters in a very evil manner. A wise man who was also present witnessed all of this and therefore said:”O leader of the believers! Do not listen to him. I swear by Allaah, that it is they (i.e., girls) who stay up to care for the sick in the family, who show mercy towards the elders, and who stand next to men during hardships.”

A man was granted a baby girl, so he became angry and isolated himself from his wife for a long time, and after few months, heoverheard his wife reciting the verse (which means): “…But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you…” [Quran 2:216]

How many girls have been far more merciful and beneficial to their parents than their brothers? How many times has a son been a source of grief for his parents, to the point that they wished he was never born?

Why do we raise this topic now? It is due to the vicious attacks on the Muslims under the pretext of defending ‘women’s rights’ which is in reality an evil attempt to play on the emotions of women so that they will become rebellious towards their fathers and husbands, and to encourage them to leave their homes and demand their ‘freedom’. This is a gate towards evil and immorality which gradually attracts women and then traps them in prohibitions. One cause of girls falling into this is people neglecting their daughters and undermining their rights, which makes them easily fall into the traps of the hypocritical writers and columnists, male and female, who wish to see corruption prevail.

It is enough of an honour for girls that the Prophets may Allaah exalt their mention, had daughters and that most of the children of our beloved Prophet were daughters, namely: Zaynab, Ruqayyah, Umm Kalthoom and Faatimah

Related Article: Daugters in Islam 2

Source: Islamweb

By now you must have noticed that this blog operates on Jordanian time…

Rummana Campsite

Anyway, let’s continue on the trek toward Petra. As I mentioned last time, the Dana Nature Reserve is one of the most spectacular places one can visit in Jordan – and a lot more peaceful than swarming Petra. There are two places to stay in the reserve, one in the North (Rummana Campsite) and one in the South (the Feinan Ecolodge). At both sites you have to use the accommodations provided because the Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature (RSCN), which runs the reserve, wants to make sure that humans have as little impact on the reserve as possible – while still being able to thoroughly enjoy it. Dana’s accommodations are very nice indeed and thus also relatively expensive for Jordan (if you’re comparing it to budget hotel prices in Amman; if you compare RSCN prices with how much it costs to stay with the Bedouin in Wadi Rum for example, it’s about the same).

We decided that the first hike of our Dana-Petra trek would be the popular walk from Dana to Feinan through Wadi Dana. Crucially for us, this is one of the handful of long hikes one can do in the Dana Nature Reserve without an expensive guide. I recommend this hike for the first day of a multi-day camping trip because it is a relatively easy, downhill, 5 hour hike – and it ends at the incredible Feinan Ecolodge (more on that later).

View of the Route to Feinan through Wadi Dana from Dana Village

If you stay at the Rummana Campsite (which I absolutely recommend you do) keep in mind that the “official trail” to Feinan actually starts at Dana Village. In order to get there, you can hire a guide and hike for 5 km / Time: 4 hr or you can ask for the campsite to arrange transport by car (warning, even if it isn’t stated explicitly up front, RSCN will expect payment for the car ride – see Travel Vignette #1 on haggling).

Starting at Dana Village, our trek through Wadi Dana to Feinan took us from an elevation of about 1200m (4,000 ft) to 200m (650 ft). The initial descent consists of about an hour on a steep zigzagging path down to the floor of the wadi. A couple of villagers I met on the way down say there’s a beautiful natural spring right around where the path meets the wadi floor, but we were too focused on reaching Feinan to go looking for the spring on this trip. As we walked through Wadi Dana we passed through small groves of (what the guidebook told us were) oak, pistachio, acacia, and ziziphus trees.

Hiking Through Wadi Dana Toward Feinan

The closer we got to Feinan, the more signs there were of the presence of a Bedouin community (it turns out that around 50 Bedouin families live in the Feinan area). First we ran into a couple of goat herders who were quite amused at the antics of some members of our team upon the sighting of a scorpion crawling into someone’s clothing. Later we were called in for tea as we passed the first of several tents. As we sipped our tea, we noticed that a couple who had been hiking behind us were being invited into the next tent. Ah the Bedouin tea checkpoint system, obviously if the first tent doesn’t get you, then the second one will (cf. forthcoming vignette #2 on Bedouin hospitality). We stayed in the tent drinking tea for quite a while, talking with a group of mostly teenagers. Some went to school, some herded goats. If a Bedouin family invites you in like this, I thoroughly recommend sharing some food as a polite gesture of thanks for the tea. Our delicious trail mix (even one companion’s otherwise inappropriate party mix) was very popular indeed.

As I sipped my tea, I wondered whether I had met these young men before. I camped in Feinan in 1998 and had also spent time in a couple of Bedouin tents then. Most of the people I was having tea with now would have been small children then – like me. Maybe we did cross paths.

Eventually we had to leave, sunset was approaching and we needed to get to the Ecolodge. We were assured (correctly) that the lodge was just around the corner. Perhaps the best aspect of the Dana-Feinan hike is that you’re rewarded at the end with the Ecolodge. You’re just walking along, following a turn in the wadi (as you have many times over the course of the hike) and then suddenly – it appears!

Feinan Ecolodge

I’ll talk about the Ecolodge a bit more in the upcoming post on the wonders of Feinan (including a brief retrospective on 1998).

Tous les jours nous sommes bombardés par le bruit. Il s’agit d’un aspect dans nos vies pratiquement inévitable. Que ce soit avec le bruit des automobiles et autres moyens de transport ou encore avec les bribes de conversations qu’on capte des passants dans la rue, il suffit de mettre le pied hors de chez soi pour y être confronté.

Palmyra, Syrie

Nous sommes dans une société très active dans laquelle tout bouge rapidement et dans laquelle beaucoup d’informations circulent et c’est une tâche difficile que de réussir à se déconnecter de tout ça. L’internet, la télévision, le téléphone et la radio ne nous aident certainement pas. Parfois je me surprends à être chez moi pendant de longues heures soit à travailler sur mon blog, à faire du ménage ou à faire mes devoirs et ce, sans aucune musique. Comme si j’étais saturée de cette pollution visuelle et auditive.

Wadi Rum, Jordanie

Mon fond d’écran d’ordinateur est une photo de moi dans le désert de la Jordanie. Chaque jour je la regarde et je retrouve une parcelle de ce sentiment que j’ai eu la chance de vivre à trois reprises dans des déserts du monde arabe.

Le désert regroupe un septième de la surface de la terre dont 35% de la surface terrestre. Il s’agit du seul endroit dans lequel l’évaporation excède les précipitations. Recevant très peu de précipitation, les nuits sont plutôt fraîches dû au manque d’humidité dans l’air, alors que le jour la température peu devenir extrêmement chaude, jusqu’à 60 degrés Celsius.

Le désert est devenu pour moi, un endroit rare que je convoite durant mes voyages. Il s’agit d’un genre de cure du silence, d’un endroit dans lequel j’adore errer. C’est un vaste territoire où je me retrouve seule au beau milieu de nulle part, sans artifices. Même en  balayant du regard l’horizon à 360 degrés , je n’y vois que du sable, des dunes ou des structures de roches assez impressionnantes et ce à l’infini.

Sahara, Maroc

La première fois que j’ai eu la chance d’aller dans le désert fut lors de mon voyage au Maroc. Je m’étais offert ce petit luxe de deux jours d’excursion dont une nuit dans le désert. Un classique quoi! Nous étions un groupe de touristes partant de la ville de Marrakesh  pour  Zagora, à l’entrée du désert, près de la frontière de l’Algérie. Nous avions donc un van et nous devions être à peu près une dizaines de touristes.

Palmyra, Syrie

Le Maroc comprends des chaines de montagnes assez importantes et ainsi pour se rendre dans le désert, nous avons dû les contourner par des petits chemins en serpentin. Je dois vous dire que j’ai toujours eu le mal des transports et avec l’âge ça s’atténue. Par contre, encore aujourd’hui de longs trajets de minibus en serpentin au bord de falaises, me donne encore quelques sensations. Ce fut un trajet assez pénible et mon comprimé Gravol fut le bienvenu! Le chauffeur arrêta le van à plusieurs reprises afin que nous puissions prendre des photos en cours de route. Tout comme un troupeau, nous sortions un par un du van pour prendre des clichés et remonter par la suite. Un peu absurde comme situation, mais il faut se mettre dans le contexte d’une excursion touristique et on oublie presque que de quoi nous avons l’air. De plus, aujourd’hui, je suis bien contente d’avoir ces photos en souvenirs.

Palmyra, Syrie

À notre arrivée à Zagora, nous avons eu droit au tour de chameau pour nous rendre au campement bédouin. Ceux qui dirigent nos chameaux nous font acheter des foulards pour notre tête afin de se protéger du soleil. Encore un attrape touriste et en revoyant les photos je vous assure que nous avions vraiment l’air niaiseux. Je me sentais comme Francine Grimaldi avec mes grosses lunettes de soleil et ce turban bidon.

Étant donné que c’était un tour organisé, nous avions évidemment droit au repas traditionnel préparé par les bédouins à côté d’une tente dans laquelle nous allions dormir tous ensemble avec un autre groupe de touriste. Après le repas, le thé fut servi et voilà les bédouins qui tentent d’amuser les touristes avec des tamtams et des chants. J’étais la plus jeune, blanche et voyageuse solo alors pas besoin de vous dire que j’attirais l’attention de ces bédouins qui me surnommèrent Fatima! (Fatima fut la fille unique du Prophète Mohammad qui reçu la révélation coranique de l’an 610 à 632).

Wadi Rum, Jordanie

La tente était très chaude puisqu’elle renfermait encore la chaleur du jour et nous avons tous décidé de sortir les petits matelas et couvertures et de dormir à la belle étoile. C’est le cas de le dire, la belle étoile, les belles étoiles.

J’étais couchée de mon côté, sur le dos, bien emmitouflée dans ma couverture et j’observais les étoiles qui semblaient si loin et si proches à la fois. Elles étaient radieuses et je les voyais toutes clairement. C’était un moment magique malgré ma fatigue. Malheureusement je n’avais personne avec qui partager mon extase envers cette beauté naturelle et peut-être une bonne chose, car ça fait partie de moi  et uniquement de moi. J’ai vu des tas d’étoiles filantes et je me suis endormie comme ça, avec cette image incroyable en ayant l’esprit tranquille et en paix.

Wadi Rum, Jordanie

Après cette expérience, j’étais toujours restée avec ce désir d’y retourner et ce fut à Palmyra, dans le centre de la Syrie que j’ai assouvi mon désir. Ce fut une expérience différente de la première, puisque Palmyra est une ville qui se situe dans un oasis du désert de la Syrie. Je résidais donc chez un couchsurfer qui demeurait au bord du site archéologique de cette ancienne cité des plus impressionnants que j’ai vu. À quelques heures de Damas seulement, on se retrouve dans un tout autre contexte. Mon couchsurfer Hany qui travaille dans le domaine touristique puisqu’il possède un café internet dans le restaurant de son père, m’a amené dans une fête qui était organisée par son ami Obayd dans une tente bédouine. Nous avons mangé, fumé le narguilé et bu l’incontournable arak, boisson de la Syrie du même principe que le Ricard, pendant que des bédouins jouaient des instruments et chantaient. Puis, le lendemain, puisque je voulais visiter l’ancienne cité, mais un léger mal de tête m’empêcha de m’exhiber sous ce soleil tapant de 50 degrés et j’y allai plus tard avant le coucher du soleil. Le fait que j’aie été hébergé chez Hany, les gens me voyaient avec lui dans les rues de Palmyra et j’eu droit à certains privilèges. Alors que je me promenais dans les ruines, un chamelier m’intercepta pour me donner un tour de chameau. Je refusai bien évidemment puisque les attrapes touristes, très peu pour moi. Il insiste en me disant qu’il me fait un tour gratuit car je suis l’invitée de Hany. J’accepte enfin après quelques refus et le chamelier me fit un tour de deux heures. Puis-je vous dire que j’en ai ressenti les effets pendant les deux jours qui suivirent! Ces privilèges qui ont fait de ma visite, des moments inoubliables sont encore une fois grâce à la générosité et le concept du couchsurfing.

Soirée dans la tente de bédouin, Palmyra Syrie

Je pense que ma meilleure expérience demeure la troisième et la dernière : le désert de Wadi Rum. Situé dans le sud de la Jordanie, à la frontière de l’Arabie saoudite, ce fut un moment magique. Nous étions cinq à descendre de Amman à Wadi Rum en voiture : Soha, la sœur de l’amie de mon frère Libanaise, deux amis expatriés qu’elle s’est fait à Amman ainsi que son amie Elsie du Liban également et moi, bien sûr. Nous partagions le campement avec une petite famille fort sympathique où Suleyman, le chef du campement nous a reçus. À notre arrivée, nous avons troqué la voiture de Soha pour leur jeep afin de faire un tour du désert qui est époustouflant. Les pieds dans le sable chaud d’une couleur rougeâtre rose avec ses rochers verticaux de même couleur avec des reliefs magnifiques et organiques, j’étais au paradis. Nous avions beaucoup de temps avant que le repas soit servi. C’est là que nous nous dispersions de temps à autres pour nous regrouper à deux ou trois en observant l’horizon. La chaleur parfaite sur la peau, l’absence totale de bruit, le vent soufflant et toujours présent, difficile de décrire le tout en un mot. Je suis restée de longs moments à apprécier ce vide si plein, savourer l’absence de son qui possède étrangement un son. Il s’agissait d’un moment intemporel de déconnection avec la réalité et recentré sur moi-même. Je vous le conseille à tous. C’est indescriptible, il faut absolument le vivre.

Soirée dans la tente de bédouin, Palmyra Syrie

À Montréal, souvent, je pense au désert, un genre d’échappatoire dans ma vie courante si bousculée par tout ce qui passe à 100 miles à l’heure. Dans le désert, aucun événement ne nous dépasse. On savoure le moment présent et je retrouve un peu le sentiment que j’avais en regardant mes photos. Je me console en me disant que dans un an, presque jour pour jour, j’y serai à nouveau.

فانيسا

vanes

Si ce que tu as à dire n’est pas plus beau que le silence, alors tais-toi. (proverbe arabe)