Nahr Elbared song

My mom told me about this song and I just had to listen to it....then you know, I just had to blog it !:)

I am a huge fan of Palestinian patriotic song, my favourite song ever ever ever is min sijin 3aka.

I hope this song link works. It is a cute song about Nahr Elbared....and having so many childhood memories there, it makes me sad :(

Any ways..here is the song, it used Sijin 3aka music with different lyrics..

http://www.zshare.net/audio/25910926ffdf1a/

Remembering

One day so looong ago when I was about seven years old we woke up at 7:00ish am to a loud sound comeing from faraway, or so it seemed. All of the neighbours in our building were standing at their balconies, guessing what that sound was. Some one said it was probably thunder, someone else said it might be a hurricane; others said it is an earthquake, and so on. It as a nice sunny October/November day so most of their guesses did not make sense. While everyone was guessing what is going on, a bee stung me! It was so painful! This was the first and the last time I have been stung by a bee! I didn’t do anything to that bee, why did it have to commit a suicide and sting me! I was just standing there minding my own business and listening to all the neighbours talking and worried about the mysterious sound! I would have never guessed it, even thinking back at it, this is not how I would imagine the sounds!

We soon found out what that sound was. It was the sound of war. It was my first experience of war. Although we did live in Lebanon during the worst part of the war, we did not experience much of it since we lived in Tripoli far away from Beirut.

My parents decided that it would be best to leave our place since our building was right in the middle. Mama told us to go to our rooms and pack clothes, just throw everything in these bags she yelled. Back then clothing was not my first priority! I went to my room and collected my favourite doll and her accessories. I had lots of clothes and hair accessories for my doll. My mom’s friends were learning to sew and they practiced by making clothes for my dollies. My uncle had recently bought me some plastic doll furniture; I could not leave those behind!

You can imagine the look on mama’s face when I came out of my room after a while with just my doll and her stuff! I didn’t even pack a pair of PJ! Dah! I was yelled at and mama had to go to my room and pack my essentials while shaking her head at my habal. I had to fight my parents to let me take my doll and her stuff. Eventually I was allowed to take her with me, but only enough of her stuff to fit into a shoebox! Phew I would have been worried sick about her if I had to leave her behind. My parents would have never heard the end of it! They were smart to give in. So on that day I left my home with my family and dolly for the sake of our safety. Good thing we left when we did, a days later our building was hit numerous times and left in flames. The important thing though, is that we were all safe, including my doll!

my older sister

Long time ago when I was in Lebanon I went to school in the camp. We lived outside the camp, a 15min drive. Since my dad worked for Unurwa and my mom for the Red Crescent in Naher Elbared camp, we all went to school there.

I am the oldest of four kids. At one point it really sucked. Everyone in my class was the 11th or 13th child. They all had older sisters and brothers. Everyday someone would come to class bragging about her sister getting married, her sister having a baby, her brother taking her here and there. I was very envious. It was not fair! I wanted an older sibling, a much older sibling that would take me to the balad or to the mina for ice cream. I waned to be sister of the bride, and I wanted nephews and brothers in law! At that time I thought it was the coolest thing!

So, I made up an imaginary sister. Her name was Nadia. She was married to a man named Adel and had a baby named Basel (he was so cute). I talked so much about my “sister”; I started believing she was real that year. I think I was in grade 4. The thing is my dad was well known at the camp. He was the lab technologist, everyone came to see him one time or another. He was called Ali elmokhtabar. So everyone’s parents knew that this not even yet 40-year-old man did not have a married daughter or a grandson. Some of them were even at his wedding! But the girls in my class believed me; I guess no one bothered to ask their parents to confirm my lie.

I do not believe I was envious of that! I mean most of these girl’s families did not have much. They lived in awful looking houses all cramped up with so many people in zawareb el mokhayam. Their clothes were second hand from the bali or hand me downs from their older siblings. They probably did not get as much attention as I got from my parents. But that did not matter. To me they were so lucky to have older siblings! Thinking of it now, having an older sibling is not always a blessing! I am eight years older than my baby brother and o man he was my helper for years. He fetched things for me all the time, water, juice, fruits, cookies while I am watching TV, reading or studying.

Memory triggers

Zozo just ate a plum and he came to me to floss his teeth because apiece is stuck. His breath smelled like plum and I had a quick mental image of so long ago when we had a janazeh for a bird at our friend’s farm.
They had a huge farm in Lebanon. We used to love going there. It was always a bit cold on the mountains in Lebanon and the air so fresh. This family was very religious and the few brothers lived together on part time basis on this farm. They all had their own houses in the city. Every few weeks we’d go to the farm and spend few days with them. It was so much fun for us kids. There was a sandy hill we rolled down, we played hide and seek and tag in the fields, picked fresh flower and played house. The men would go hunting and the women would get dinner ready fort he million people in the house a that time, and of course gossip.
One day we found a dead bird between the plum and the peach trees. We all felt bad for the poor dead bird and I suggested we bury him and have a proper janazeh instead of leaving him on the ground. We were all between the ages of 4 and 13; none of us has ever been to a real funeral. But you always see the men carrying a box and everyone walking behind them on TV. So that is what we did. We put the bird in a small box, the oldest boy (his name was mos3ab) carried the box and all of us 10-15 kids walked behind him between the trees until we found he perfect burial spot. We all dug a hole big enough to fit the box. We read the fate7a then cried some and put a stone and some flowers on top. We promised to visit the grave every time we went up there, and we did until we came to Canada.

Do you know so and so in Canada?

When I was in Lebanon few years ago. I was sitting at my uncle’s house when a neighbour(an elderly lady) dropped by for a finjan ahwi(a cup of coffee)

Neighbour: men ween into ya 7abibti, sme3et inik jai min Canada.(I heard you came from Canada)

Me: aa (aha)

Neighbour: bte3rafi flan ibn flan? Kan jarna, wisa 3ayesh becanada(do you know so and so, the son of so and so? He lives in Canada)

Me: la wala ya khalto ma ba3rafo, ween 3ayesh becanada?(no I do not know him, which part of Canada does he live in?)

Neighbour: ma ba3raf ween, bas ya3ni saken nawa7eekom.(I do not know, but he lives there)

Me: Canada kteer kberi ya khalto, wfeeha 3arab kteer, ma ba3rafhom kolhom. (Canada is a very big country, and there are lots of Arabs, I do not know them all)

Neighbour: Gareeb (strange)

She finished her coffee and left thinking sho had, ma3'ool ma bti3rafo?.

It is so funny how she expected me to know someone just because he lives in Canada. Really she lives in a camp the size of my apartment complex. Does she know every single person there?? Some times people surprise you with their questions and comments.
She probably just came by to ask me this question :o) old people are so cute sometimes:)