Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Deathfull


Death reconciles sadness and joy. Achraf says it is the ultimate truth. And we are only capable of seeing anyone buried… or right before, on the washing slab, in a coffin or before they sail to burn. We look at them like it’s the first time. The last time is the first. We say hello as they wave goodbye. Eyes shut. Soul afloat. We only belong to them then. They conquer Achraf’s truth all while immortalising our memories. We eventually embalm them into a picture. One time. One moment. That is all we have left. Our misery is traded for the sanctuary of a single memory. Dear Bassem, I’m sorry I skipped Sir Bani Yas Forum and we never met like we planned. Dear Thamer, I’m sorry I didn’t press on you to leave to RAK after lunch like you initially planned that day before you got that on wretched bike. Dear Nasser, I’m sorry I missed your burial and didn’t shed a tear when mom called to tell me – though my heart broke and my lungs compressed at the thought of your loss. Dear Akil, I’m sorry I never took those calls just before the end. But I am not reconciled. I would trade all that truth and a thousand real moments for the company of your lives. I do not find solace for your wrong deaths in the greatness of your past lives. That doesn’t do it for me. I wanted more of you. Days and decades since, I still want more of you. I will always hate that you are dead. You deserve to be immortal. I will probably die a little sooner because you died so much sooner.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Highlander

A moment to catch my fleeting thoughts… am I too fast or are they too slow? I think both. 

I am excited at my acceleration but I am also nostalgic of time to be. Can we not be both?

Can we not discuss being both seriously?

Can we not all be highlanders?

Lives after lives to date not to find what’s best or even better… but to find it all.

I hope Ray’s right. 

I want to live a thousand years.

I want to be a highlander.

I want to be a poly-century-math.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Band Incomplete


It’s hard for a band of brothers to travel the same seas with a brother gone. He’s everywhere but he’s not. It’s hard for a band of brothers to walk the same islands with a brother gone. He’s with them but he’s not. It’s hard for a band of brothers to play the same music with a brother gone. His music is still loud but he’s not.

How hard it must be to be shaken from the busy that is everyday to be taken back to the very rooms of a brother. How silly they must feel… their dejections at once awake. How loud is his laugh among their silence? Books and apps and cards and plans and ideas do not prevail. His presence is so loud.

What to do with the present when the past seems this inconclusive? What does the future hold for those with inadequate pasts? What is there to multiply when ones's additions have been this subtracted? Divisibility abounds.


They are incomplete.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Loss to life

The only thing worse than losing a friend to death must be losing one to life. Death brings its five stages of grief but life brings more of it wrapped only in disbelief. The streets you walked with your dead ones are only yours but those of your living... those you still must share.

Tell me old friends that still roam… when did life overstretch our truth?
Tell me young companions… was it ever warm? Even in summer

I ask in defence of narratives we built together and values we pledged we'd stand by forever. I ask, with all the skin we've shed since, would we still recognise each other? I ask so that we may end our chapters with post-civil dignity. I ask so that our faking can stop. I ask to know if I fake it alone. I ask because I cannot tell anymore. Your eyes are dead old friend, but you are full of life.

I am sure you are sure but I must hope to be wrong. So that the past can still maintain and so that I can remember and we can still perpetuate.

I'll make you an offer that'll fill your coffers: I'll trade you our past for your future. Give me that and be gone again... but don't be generous! I only want my fair price, no matter how expensive or inexpensive.

Do it and die old friend. Do it before I murder the past, be full of a life nested in cold eyes. Do it before I become you old friend.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

في ثامر

* ترجمة لتدوينة البارحة الانجليزية Ode to a good man

-----

أكاد ان أجزم أنني استطيع ان أجد عيبا في غالبية الناس والكمال لله وحده لكنني على عكس العادة أكاد ان أجزم بأنني وجدت في ثامر سلمان اقرب شيء لذلك. لكن ثامر رحل منذ عشر ساعات.

كان ثامر طيباً جدا. فقد كان من الأشخاص الذين أنعم الله عليهم بكل شيء من عقل وصحة ومال ووسامة ولكنه آثر حسن الخلق على ان يكون مختالاً فخوراً. كان ذكياً وخفيف الظل وناجحاً و مثقفاً ومتعطشا للحياة. كان ثامر رائعا.

قد يكون ثامر الشخص الوحيد الذي كان دمثاً في تنافسيته. كان يتقن كل ما يجربه. من الطيران المائي (fly board) إلى اختياراته الثقافية. كان فعلاً متعدد المواهب والقدرات.

كان ثامر أيضاً كريماً جداً. حين اتصلت بي والدتي في نوفمبر الماضي لتطلب العون لطالبة ثانوية متفوقة ولكن من عائلة محدودة الدخل لدخول الجامعة قام ثامر بإدخالها لفصل يناير واستخراج منحة كاملة لها.

كنا نسميه ويكي (wiki) لانه كان يعرف كل شيء أو يعرف كيفية الوصل اليه قبلنا جميعاً. بل وصل لمرحلة من الاحتراف في استخراج المعلومات أننا سلمنا له الأمر ولم نعد نسأل غيره عن شيء. كان يجيب عن جميع أسئلتنا.

فكرياً، كان ثامر مهموما بحال العالم العربي وكان يتوق للمبادرة بشكل إيجابي للمنطقة. تحدثنا كثيرا عن مؤهلاته الخاصة كداعم ومؤسس لحاضنات ريادة الأعمال في العالم العربي.

الليله الماضية سهرنا للساعة ٦.٣٠ صباحاً. تسامرنا ولعبنا كرة القدم على البلاي ستيشين وحين انصرف الجميع حدثته عن قرارٍ إيجابي كان قد اقترحه علي الشهر السابق. فرح كثيرا لي. ثم دخلنا غرفنا للنوم وكنا اخر من صحا من الأصدقاء. تناولنا الغداء معاً ثم انطلق هو واثنان من الأصدقاء على الدراجات قبيل المغرب ثم حصل ما حصل رحمه الله.

الموت دوما يبعثر أوراق حياتنا ويسحق أبجدية أولوياتنا. موته سحق حياته وأي حياةٍ كانت.

أؤمن بالله وأدعو له بحسن الخاتمة. كان الله في عوننا.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Ode to a good man


I know many men with faults. Most men I know tend to have a habit I cannot praise. But to find no faults in a man is rare and hard. And that is what I found in Thamer Salman. But Thamer passed away 10 hours ago.

Thamer was so good. He was the guy who had it all and could've carried himself very differently but he didn't. He was smart and funny and successful and cultured and curious. He was wonderful.

Thamer is probably the only man I ever knew that was endearingly competitive. He litreally mastered everything he attempted. From fly boarding to DJing. He was a natural polymath.

Thamer was also very kind and generous. When my mother asked me in November last year to help a smart but very poor young highschool graduate to get into college, Thamer arranged for her a full schoarlship and acceptance to January's semester.

We called him wiki because he either knew everything or knew how to get it before anyone else did. He was so good we stopped asking anyone else anything. He answered all our questions.

Intellectually, Thamer was deeply involved in the ongoing events in the Arab world and he longed to contribute. We spoke often of his unique placement as a funder and founder of incubators across the Arab world. He wanted to do something about it.

Last night we stayed up till 6.30am (23 hours ago). We played music, then play station and then we talked. I shared with him some very good news that he'd been pushing me towards for the last few months. He was ecstatic. We then both went to bed. We were the last to wake up today. We all had lunch and then he and a few guys took the buggies out for a final drive before dark. And the rest is history.

Death is always messy. It is the primordial disruptive technology. His death disrupted his life. And what a great life it was.

I know he's in a better place but I miss him all the same. God help us.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

All in

Tell me about the things you think but do not say
Tell me about them
Tell me about your wisdom to withhold
Tell me about your perpetual moments that won't become hours
Tell me about your torments that won't become delicate towers

Like you, I am of the light
It is corny they say
but corn will keep us alive
And as you know, I am free of the lame

Now exhale
And just be...
...free with me

Let them be intellectual and deep and forward
Let them claim to have found authenticity and truth in pain
Let them be the only thing they can

We've had enough of the blasé
We've had it rough
We're in...
...all in