Between Black and White.
<div class="black"><b>A Nation in Mourning</b> <br> These past days have left the United Arab Emirates stricken with grief as our Dubai ruler, HRH Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid Al Maktoum, passed away. We are remembering all his noble contributions to humanity: taking this city to unprecedented success in its history, encouraging education, donating to humanitarian causes worldwide, and being a loving and modest father to this young nation.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Tears come tumbling down as rain, words vanish and leave us mute, we clasp each other in a semblance of human bonding – weak as we realize we are all destined to retreat to the sands.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Dear father, we miss you down here…</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><img src="http://www.amorelicious.com/blogpics/bmaktoum.jpg"><br><i>May God give you enternal happiness and peace in his Paradise,<br>Until we meet again...</i></center> <div align=right style="margin:0;"><P align=RIGHT class="blogText"> <A HREF="javascript:popup('http://www.amorelicious.com/archives/00000054.htm','Comments')" onMouseOver="window.status='Comment on this entry';return true" onMouseOut="window.status='';return true"><font color="#000000" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal;">11 comments</font></A> </P> </div> <div class="black"><b>Between Black and White</b> <br> I’ve always been confused about extremists that I finally decided to group them in two: black and white. Black suggests people who are selfish, irresponsible, and inflict pain upon themselves and others. White suggests people who are too afraid to live outside their moral, sin-free life.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> But is life really shoved in two corners? Can’t we not be responsible, moral human beings while being successful, respected, and loved by society?</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> They are hopeless if they do not see the beautiful spectrum of colors that is life, that is between Black and White.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <BR><b>Lost in Black Thoughts:</b><BR>One. Two. Three. The room erupted in an explosive dance. The music and lyrics sent an electrifying vibe throughout the dance floor. Each person became a torch of fiery passion creating a magical connected circle of stunned worshippers. Manic. Chaos. Release. It was a playground for liberation outside social and moral chains. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> I traced the contours of the swaying bodies underneath the glittery clothes as I strode from one person to another. My eyes pierce through their souls and soon, I was looking at the movie of their lives.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> He was having an affair with Ecstasy to forget his marital problems. She was setting her body on fire to liberate herself from her parents’ constant tight grip. He had a fetish for sensuous strippers who gave him endless gratification; more than his docile wife could ever give. She craved attention and affection; resulting in the countless seductions of men.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> This was where fantasies found a home with reality.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> I come here often as an observer. I’m a psychiatrist who’s intrigued by why people put themselves in constant strings of self-destructive acts: decadence, drugs addiction, adultery, prostitution, theft, lust… I help patients who have lost themselves in so many ways and are too strung to come back. Temptation dazzles their minds and ignites their suppressed desires that sometimes I have to fight with their devils to detach from their temporal whims.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Firstly, I ask them: Tell me about your childhood; and I join their journey as they try to extract disintegrated memories from here and there. As I get off that bus stop, I travel to their adolescent life and question the dreams and desires that surrounded their thoughts. They confide in me all their frustrations, the shattered dreams, the abused parents, the financial stresses, and it goes downhill from there. How did they end up in this deep black hole? A hole that sucks their energies, morals, and dreams and leaves their hearts hollow? It is a weakness that affirms that there is no way to uplift the soul except in this disordered frenzy. Why couldn’t they have been stronger in difficult situations? What makes these destructive choices so spellbinding that they accept their fates and broken dreams? </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> A temporary sexy rush, filled with a mad explosion of the senses that bedazzles their whims. Constantly looking for something newer, bolder, beautiful bodies, artificial glamour, ultra manic… a way to make life better and better in materialistic means… losing a bit of reality on the way, a bit of themselves until one day their hearts burn so deep, the black hole leaves an emptiness in their hearts they can never fill. One candle remains flickering: “There’s something missing in my heart”; but they have no clue what it is, for the darkness has engulfed most of their thoughts…</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> I jot down these thoughts in my notebook; where the last couplet I read was:</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><i>Hell is not in torture,<BR>Hell is in an empty heart.<BR>- Kahlil Gibran</i></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <BR><b>Lost in White Thoughts:</b><BR>She clutched her rosaries as her voice quivered, uttering the Divine name with feverish repetition. She was taught to pray from a very young age; both her parents were very religious and strict – and they made sure their lives followed all religious principles. She knew no other life.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> She rolled her prayer mat and looked out the window; moonlight flirting with the darkness of her room. She pondered a lot about her life, God, and why she was meant to live. The brilliance of the Celestine manifested the magnificence of God and His immaculately designed Creations. The Holy Book also states much preference to humans; for God blew part of His soul into them. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> She loved God for all His blessings. Yet… thoughts tingled her logic and questioned her: are we here only to recite the Holy Book and finish hundreds of rounds of rosary readings? Why Had God sent us a Holy Book? As she scrutinized the Divine book, she kept wondering about the world outside. It kept encouraging her to wander around Earth to experience God’s miracles. It served as a motivator for achieving noble dreams - whatever they may be - and having faith that God will help every step of the way. It reprimanded people who hurt others and berated their aspirations.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Why then is she all alone, everyday, every night, in her room uttering prayers when actions are the drivers of faith?</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Her parents were strict from an early age: no interaction with men, having veiled from the age of 9, were firm believers that women should not be educated (because of mixed universities these days) and should stay at home and be obedient to her parents (working is not allowed because it arises temptations in her male colleagues). Her marriage will be matchmade to a pious man (preferably an imam of the mosque) and she will render lots of children to continue the faith.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Looking out the window and gazing at the stars up above, she wondered about her uneventful life: had she experienced God’s wonder around the Earth? Did her feet get tingled as the oceanic waves brush up against her? Had she ever looked out from the mountaintop across the vastness of the lands? Will she achieve something so grand in her life that she will be remembered for? Can she share these thoughts with another human being?</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Thoughts played in her mind… yet she was scared. Never been out of the confines of this lifestyle, she knew not how to handle the outside world. Her parents were frantic about every step, every mistake. Was she not human, after all? It seemed to her that her life was too safe and predictable, promising a seat in Heaven yet what did she do that truly deserved recognition? Couldn’t she contribute to society while keeping her faith? Who will run our world if every person decides to build up a secluded shack to worship all his life?</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> As she rummaged through her white thoughts, she sensed a spark compelling her otherwise. Consuming her with curiosity to explore, pushing her to run for her dreams, be strong at protecting it, and having a deep faith that God will never falter a believer who seeks to make a difference in this world.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <BR><center><img src="http://www.amorelicious.com/blogpics/btemptations.jpg"><br><b>Temptation.</b></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><img src="http://www.amorelicious.com/blogpics/barabiandollbw-copy.jpg"><br><b>Coercion.</b></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><img src="http://www.amorelicious.com/blogpics/bprayer.jpg"><br><b>Faith.</b></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><i>God, give me faith that I be released from the chains of temptations and let me make a noble difference in people's lives...</i></center><BR> <div align=right style="margin:0;"><P align=RIGHT class="blogText"> <A HREF="javascript:popup('http://www.amorelicious.com/archives/00000053.htm','Comments')" onMouseOver="window.status='Comment on this entry';return true" onMouseOut="window.status='';return true"><font color="#000000" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal;">18 comments</font></A> </P> </div> <div class="black"><b>Praying for Angels</b> <br> The sound of the alarm buzzed like a trapped wasp. My dreams evaporated into the eternal skies as I was slowly brought back into this sunny day. A lazy smile rested on my face as I stretched my arms and legs. My eyes caught a glimpse of a school uniform perched neatly on my bed. Excitement danced in my eyes as I remembered that it’s the first day of school. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Mamma was already up and about; preparing breakfast and chatting merrily to Papa. The beginning of the school year is always welcomed with thrill and gratitude as it marks another year of growth and knowledge; a reason every mother in this town makes her strongest effort to make it a special day for her child. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> After a frenzy of dress-ups, wolfing down my food, and flinging things wildly into my schoolbag, I took one last look at my parents and I stopped for a moment. A sudden torrent of emotions stirred inside me, that I jumped into their embrace and pecked them a kiss each. The three of us stayed in that beautiful, encirclement for what lasted a few minutes. I engulfed their scents mixed with the comforting warmth of their love. Then I let go. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> The last words I heard from them was a prayer to protect me from all evil.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> My two best friends, Eva and Nora, were already waiting for me by the neighborhood park. We’ve known each other ever since we were toddlers, and I think they know all my secrets and me theirs! We reached the school ten minutes later where we were greeted by all our classmates with animated talks and casual hugs as the teachers tried to arrange this chaos into neat lines for the assembly.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Our headmistress is a kind, old lady who’s been working in this school for decades. She’s quite revered in our town for opening the first school and graduating hundreds of students after that. She cleared her throat as she started her welcome note. She talked passionately about the spirit of true education and the roles we will play in the future of our country when, suddenly, her face contorted in a mixture of shock and fright as a group of masked men slowly surrounded our courtyard like dark, gloomy clouds covering the bright sun. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> At first, we were at lost for words, silent and condescending, waiting for the menacing fate to unravel our future which, at this moment, lay between the hands of these uninvited guests. The younger children started screaming at the sight of guns and the black masked men slowly started engulfing us – gearing us towards the inside of the school, where they locked us up from all exits.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> We were all dragged towards the gym hall; soon there were hordes of us cramped in this tiny space. The terrorists started setting up their devices and wires around the room, someone was being radioed from an external source, and others stood as forts holding us under their siege. I clung tightly to Eva and Nora in a semblance of natural human bonding when in danger. That terror was just beginning.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Minutes turned into hours, and each passing hour made everybody tense and unsettled; especially the terrorists. We had neither water nor food; we weren’t even allowed to go to the toilet. A lot of the children had lost consciousness by the next day. Teachers were wailing and begging the terrorists to set us free but they got nothing but cruel silence. I lay like a zombie, neither allowed no freedom nor movement. My body slowly went numb, and I fell into a momentary state of blackout. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><b>~*~</b></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Dark images circled my world; there were deafening sounds of firing guns, women and children were crying, and soon I was drowning in a sea of blood and tears. I woke up with a sharp searing through my head. My vision was blurry, half teary, half dizzy. I could barely comprehend my surroundings until I heard one of the men screaming at another child and kicking him to the walls. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as a teacher tore part of her skirt to cover the wounds in order to calm his panicky tears. A string of verbal abuse followed for the rest of the upset children.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> It’s our third day here and we haven’t heard about any rescuers nor armed forces being successful with convincing the terrorists to let us go. What did they want? What was the purpose of this siege? What have innocent children got to do with their political movements? I am imagining the legions of parents waiting patiently and hopefully outside the school for their children to return safely to them as if this incident hadn’t happened in the first place. But I was wrong, there was no one here to help us, and soon every moment I held onto was as precious as eternity; for I was sensing another unwelcome stranger looming in this room. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> Rivulets of tears trickled down my face, welling up my heart with as much courage as I could muster… I am seeing that image of my parents and me that morning, entwined in our bond, the picture is vivid as are the emotions of that day. Would I live to see them grow old? Will I become a doctor like I’ve always wanted to be? Will I play with Papa in the meadows next to our apartment? Will I see Mamma cry as she prepares for my wedding day, delivers my first child, and shows my children proudly to everyone she knows because I am her daughter, a part of her body and soul?</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> My train of thoughts suddenly halted and I couldn’t go further. My stop is here. This is where it all ends… I never realized how precious life was, until this moment where every minute is sifting through the glass of time, until one moment when… all would be gone. I mumbled a silent prayer – the same one my parent had invoked the last time I saw them.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> A fight erupted with two of the terrorists. I sensed their confusion and the fact that this distressing scheme was rendered fruitless. Suddenly, one of them started ushering us out of the hall – something that astonished us and some of the other terrorist members. We quickly jolted from our languid positions and raced towards the exit. I was so happy it was all over. I didn’t want to turn back… but when I did, I saw the man stepping into a device that sent a shrieking explosion rippling through the entire school.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><b>~*~</b></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> I was found under rubbles of stones, badly burned from the fire – but my mother had recognized my face, my birthmarks and surrendered her thoughts to God.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> There were hundreds of children who passed away that day. The town’s small graveyard wasn’t enough to bury all of them in, so another patch of land was chosen for all the dead children's bodies to be buried. It became a daily pilgrimage for all the mothers who lost their children, some sitting silently by their dead children, others wailing loudly in recrimination to the deaths of their children. But there was no response, nor from the people, nor from the government, and especially not from the dead bodies scattered in the area.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> I saw my Mamma resting next to my grave. Streams of tears fell never-endingly from her beautiful eyes. Her face was tired, desolate, and lost. A part of her had died, and she felt that deeply as she lived each day miserably, dragging into the days, waiting for the last chapter to be furled to its waited ending. She finished reading my bedtime story; it was time for bed. One which I never awoke from. One which leaves her wondering if she can get a kiss from me before she closes the light. </P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> A soft misty rain poured from the heavens; they were warm… like human tears. Mamma lingered for a few moments later, finally placing my book next to my grave. She remembered my favorite one… She touched the engraving on my tomb: <i>Sarai, 1990-2001, Her parents’ angel on earth.</i> She cried as she got up and left the graveyard… until she was nothing but a dot in the huge expanse. And I could see her every move while I was flying, flying, flying… to heaven.</P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <BR><center><img src="http://www.amorelicious.com/blogpics/bbabyface.jpg"></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><img src="http://www.amorelicious.com/blogpics/blostboy.jpg"></center></P><P ALIGN=JUSTIFY> <center><i>I dedicate this to all the souls with broken wings in a cage... and especially to the children of Iraq, Palestine, Beslan, and almost everywhere you go. My prayers go for you, dear angels.</i></center> <div align=right style="margin:0;"><P align=RIGHT class="blogText"> <A HREF="javascript:popup('http://www.amorelicious.com/archives/00000052.htm','Comments')" onMouseOver="window.status='Comment on this entry';return true" onMouseOut="window.status='';return true"><font color="#000000" style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal;">95 comments</font></A> </P> </div>
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