Lady of the Largest Heart: Remembering Muna Imady
Muna Imady might have lived 5700 miles away in Damascus, Syria, but she often felt as close as my cell-phone.
A Damascene Baby Shower (Imbarakeh)
A Damascene Story
Passing down stories from one generation to the next has long been a family tradition in the Arab World. My Syrian grandmother “Tete” not only spun folktales from the dark shadows of the night, but also knitted together memories of the family into wonderful stories. Regardless of how many times they were told by her, they never failed to fascinate us. One favorite of mine was about my father and the notable Christian doctor.
A Damascene Wedding
As I opened the door, my young neighbor came in fluttering like a butterfly. “Its my brother’s wedding” she said enthusiastically as she waved the invitation card in my face “You and your daughter are both invited” she said “My Mom will be expecting to see you” She gave me a hug and fluttered out.
A Damascene Wedding Shower Amid the War
The whole building seemed to shake with the loud Arabic music until it was silenced by the shrilling sound of a shell passing over the city:
Echoing in my ears.
A Death in the Family
On the way to our usual weekly trip to the supermarket, my father called my mother and asked her to pass by my sick aunt. Fortunately we were close to her apartment and the roads that are usually hindered by the endless traffic and checkpoints went smoothly that day.
Beirut in a Damascene’s Eyes
As the driver drove down the rocky mountain towards Beirut, a dust storm hung over the city. The driver pointed at it and explained that it was much worse last week, when it had stopped a planned peaceful demonstration in Beirut. I remembered how quiet it was in Damascus when the dust storm covered it with a blanket of yellow dust; no sound of bullets breaking the silence of the night, nor of shells flying over the city
Damascus – February is the Month of Cats: Shbat Shahr Alattat
Damascene cats prowl the streets, Indifferently feasting on uncollected trash. Joining people searching in garbage cans,
Poems From Damascus
I wake up and reach for the coffee pot and turn on the faucet, but to my great shock there is no water. I frantically call my neighbors and they say the whole city is without water! This has never happened before. The Fijeh spring, the main source of water in Damascus, has never been cut.
Reactions and Realities: A Poet’s Perspective, A Visitor’s View
Snow in Damascus
As I stood at my the window watching the big snowflakes falling outside, I remembered how thrilled and excited I felt in the past about snow. Now, ever since the crisis in Syria started, snow no longer fills my heart with happiness. On the contrary, it makes me feel sad for the thousands of Syrian refugees facing the cold in their tents.
The Three Spinners: A Syrian Folktale
I was born in one of the oldest cities in the world to an American mother and a Syrian father who enriched my life and exposed me to different worlds at an early age. Perhaps this helped me become aware of how folk tales reflect in a simple fashion the customs, habits and beliefs of different cultures.