Najar!

By: Bint Khalid

For Fatima-Fazeena

 

“Najar!” She shrieked at me, “Hada najar!”.

“What is ‘najar’?” I naively asked our house keeper.

“Enti mafi ma’loom najar?!!”, she said again in her broken Arabic, with her head to one side, lifting her left eyebrow and glaring at me through her left eye. I was unsettled. “What drama is this now?” I wondered?

Forks in the Road

By: Bint Khalid

To loyal readers. The following is based on true events.

 

World War Two, and the world is unhinged. The abhorred senses of fear and uncertainty bask in the air; battles between mighty nations and superpowers ensue. Here is a war, and who knows what the new world will look like? Or who will emerge conqueror on the other side? In the turmoil, the innocent are dropping like dead leaves, some by bullet and others starvation. One wonders which is worse.

In Qatar, with a world in catastrophe, the contract with the Anglo-Persian Company to excavate oil is immobilized. Travel and trade are restricted. The largely bedouin community are unsure of what is happening with limited means of communication.

It’s Qaranqao Tonight

Here is a piece of local trivia that I a trust will amuse and confuse you. There is a tendency in the local cultures of the Arab Peninsula, one that often requires some mind processing and clarifications, especially during conversation and when setting appointments. Here it is: when referring to a specific night, a speaker will often state the day of the week (or the date) that comes right after that which they actually mean. Huh?

Ramadan Is the Month

By: Bint Khalid 

The Islamic calendar is one that is based on the lunar year, thereby following the cycle of the moon, and according to it, there occurs twelve lunations per annum.

Memoirs of The Lifeless

By: Bint Khalid

A stranger was walking slowly on a great sbakha, a salt flat, extending to all four corners of the earth. He had left his car behind, some two kilometers back. The sun was past its vertical point, and as he looked forward he saw that the land was not level but went up in some places and down in others. It was a barren space, a wasteland where the only signs of life were those entrenched tracks where car tires have pressed for years leaving their marks behind. Cautiously he walked, placing his each step carefully on the ground; in some places the earth was soft and crumbled and in others it was prickly and hard. He passed some metal rods poking out of the earth like accusing fingers, indicating boundaries of lands belonging to people who own them no longer. The color of the land varied depending on its salinity, some patches were dark and others light, in some places it was streaky and in others a solid color, but the horizon was the same color of blue, slightly darker where it touched the earth. On schedule the sun was slowly descending and his back was to it as he walked towards that darker lining; the sea was where he was heading.  

Ignorance is Bliss… Says Who?

Inspired by a another quirky post on Qatar Living

By: Bint Khalid

There are moments in life when a person’s mind goes completely blank. Usually these moments occur as the human mind reacts in surprise, bewilderment or shock. You are either left speechless or in a silent debate with your own brain. I speak for myself when I admit that I have had my fair share of such instances. If you had to ask me to squeeze out a memory of such an instance then I would have to say it is one repeated statement, that was at times formed into a question, which used to drive my brain first into bafflement, and then into an insane mental process often revolving around the question ‘why’. In such a situation I tend to stand mutely, leaving the person in front of me to think that I had just agreed with what they had said that left me in amazement, unaware of the electric surge my brain was going through, and completely misunderstanding the look of incomprehension plastered on my face. This whole process is conducted in a matter of seconds, and by the time I react I see the back of their heads as they depart, oblivious to the mental slap I was sending their way.

Kura

Dedicated to a teen who absolutely loves the game… and to someone who demands shorter posts to read…

By: Bint Khalid

Kurat al qadam, mostly known as Kura, which is ‘ball’ in Arabic, or  sokker, or futbol, or voetbal, or soccer, or football… despite the slightly different words and alphabets used to describe a sport, everyone knows this abbreviation: FIFA.

It’s a Date

Dedicated to someone who gave me true advice, and to those who appreciate.

By: Bint Khalid

There is a brown table, with beautiful wood, a textured surface and worn-splintered edges. Atop is a round woven matt of palm khoos, delicately braided, with light and colorful circular patterns in a dusty orange and a warm soft yellow. Atop this woven matt sits an old looking golden bowl engraved with tight arabesque designs, slightly dented on one side. Within this delightful bowl lay a mysterious entity. An oval shaped capsule that can be held between a thumb and a finger, slightly squishy and filled with an intriguing force. It is a centuries old exploit. It’s a date.

A Qatari’s Philosophy of Work

By: Bint Khalid

2008. On the rooftop looking out over the edge to the horizon I see the ever changing Doha sky line. Glass towers sparkle in the sunset in pale colors of pink, orange and yellow. The breezy fresh air of November is refreshing after hours of dry air conditioning. How did we get here? The sounds of the main road come floating up at me and the street lamps begin to glow a white then orange hue. There is a peace surrounding me, a moment that comes only when humans are connected with nature. And a sense of transparency descends. Is it only me? A question I pondered endlessly for the past two years, during which I was buried in a torrent of opinions, judgments and social pressures; spiced with surprised expressions, disappointed tones and side looks that tell me I am surely self-destructive.