ثلج في حي أوڤي

يا كارهين الثلج، أنتم لم تعيشوا في الحي الذي اسمه أوفي لتعرفوا ما هو الثلج الرائع.. لم تجربوا المشي على القطن الناعم، ليس عندكم شرفة في الطابق الأخير في بناية من الخمسينات، تطل على شارع و حديقة يمر منها يوميا نفس الكلب و الثلاث قطط الوديعات.

أحب مراقبة الحياة من وراء شباكي، حوافه مليئة بالثلج، أرى آثار طيور القرقف، أشعر بالطمأنينة، لأن القرقف تلويحة الربيع القادم. شاب يرتدي سترة صفراء لامعة يزيح الثلج عن درجات السلم المؤدي إلى قبو غرف غسيل الثياب، يكمل و يزيح الثلج عن عتبات البنايات المقابلة للحديقة..

في الصباح، لم أستطع مغادرة سريري، بالرغم من تذمر قطي بولين و ركضه فوقي في محاولة استفزازي، كنت مثل المشلولة، تمارين البيلاتس في الليلة الماضية كانت متعبة، لكنني شعرت بالسعادة و الفخر بمجرد التضحية بالدفء و الكسل و الخروج في عاصفة الثلج.. بعد ساعة من خطط النهوض و توعداتي بقتل قطي، غادرت السرير و توجهت مباشرة نحو شباكي، كانت الجرافة القزمة تزيح الثلج عن الشارع و الرصيف، شعرت بأنني عجوز متقاعدة و أحتاج إلى دفتر صغير أسجل فيه تحركات الجيران. كان بولين يمشي حول قدمي و ذيله يضرب ساقي بلطف كأنها محاولة للتسامح بعدما جعل مني مرمى للركض و العقاب.. لحسن حظي أنني أحب الثلج أكثر من المومينز.

My water history

Today I went to practice swimming at a private pool, it was so terrible. Whenever I dunked my head under the water, I got panic as if I was going to drown and die.

Following a cognitive behavioral therapy might help; If I look back at my ‘water history’, I will find only forbidden stories of women swimming in the sea. As a part of the society where I grew up in the Arabic culture, women weren’t (and still) allowed to swim. Yes, there are many red lines on the Arabic women freedom list.

I was a child when I used to go with my family to the sea and I was allowed to hold my father foot while he was swimming, I don’t remember that I was afraid of water. Later, I followed my brothers to the sea and it was different, they pushed me into the waves and dunked my head under the water. That can be the reason behind of my water fear.

I lost the safety when I was a child and I could never work on getting it back since I grew up and joined the women with the forbidden list of things.

A friend of mine used to tell me ‘relax and become one with the water’, but I reached a point that I can think of my cat and dunk my head under the water, but it didn’t work. I thought: well, I survived three wars. If I think of how many bombs could kill me, I will feel brave and dare to face the water.

I know, sometimes, I’m strange.. after two hours in the water, I realized that wars are much easier than becoming a friend of the water.

A spider pretending to be a woman

Today while I was working, I heard my cat, Bullen, making noises in the other room. I thought it must be a bird teasing him on the balcony. A few minutes later, I took a stretch break, I went to the other room, Bullen was chattering, he was staring very curious at the curtains, I looked there, got so scared,  screamed ‘no, Bullen, come here, please’. Bullen didn’t care and he was trying to jump up on the curtain to hunt that huge black spider.

I ran fast, pulled Bullen from the curtain and scurried to my office room and locked us in it. Bullen got annoyed with me, he started miaowing loudly and scratching on the door, he really wanted to get out and catch that horrible spider.

I said ‘ok Bullen, let’s just take a quick look at the spider’. I carried him and slowly stepped out to the other room, I looked at the curtain, the spider was hanging on the corner and swinging on invisible threads. I rumbled ‘no, this’s terrifying’. The spider walked down and started running across the floor, I ran back to the office room and locked it again.

I opened the door a little to check the spider, I saw it walking freely to the kitchen, it opened the fridge and took a slice of my smoked ham. I got so annoyed, that’s my favourite ham, strangers are not allowed to eat my favourite things.

The spider turned back and looked at me, our eyes crossed, I slammed the door, my hands were sweating a lot. Bullen was standing beside me and smelling the floor, my legs started shaking, I thought the spider crawled into my room, but no, Bullen was smelling something else. I opened the door again, the spider was smoking, that’s unbelievable, the smoke detector will start chirping, that cranky spider should stop his unacceptable behaviours, even so rude that he started spitting at the wall.. what did I do to deserve such a day? The spider climbed up my shoe and laced it, he pretended to be a woman, he wore my shoes and went to the toilet, I spied at him from the corner, he was putting lipstick on his thin black lips. I screamed ‘no, that’s my beautiful lipstick, leave it’. The spider threw it and shouted at me ‘I’m beautiful.. a beautiful spider’.

I got shocked to hear his voice, Bullen seemed to not hear anything, he was still scratching on the door.

Effects of wars on us

In every war that occurs, I realize what has changed in our personalities, physically and mentally…

In the first war, 2008, my father was strong in all aspects, he could decide how and where to protect us, shouting at us, “Quickly, leave everything and run’. He divided us in two cars so that the potential of survival would be possible. He put me, my sister, my younger brother and my mother in a car while he and the rest of my family went in another car … The missiles were falling around us and we were looking behind us all the time to make sure that my other half of my family members had not killed by a missile yet. .
In that war, my only concern was for our home to survive, because I left my favorite memories in my room. I did not think of anything other than home.

In the 2012 war, I suffered from the reverse psychology and I laughed hysterically at the destruction. I did not think of our home surviving, I only thought of my room and dreamt of a still night and a very deep sleep without interruption by the explosions.
My father was somewhat tired of thinking about a way to protect us from missiles.

In the 2014 war I was afraid of everything, I no longer thought about our home. I forgot the home. I started thinking about my body, I discovered that my body was my home and I could not imagine losing my legs, my eyes, or any part of my body.
My father was getting old, he could barely run with his cane and he had decided to protect us in the shelter places which was one of the UNRWA schools.

In the war of 2021, I am afraid of the airplanes in Stockholm’s sky. I put my fingers in my ears so that I do not hear the sound of the trains. I’m too scared and worried about my family in Gaza …
My father is too old and has lost his ability to protect my family, so it’s my brothers turn to decide how and where to protect him and what is left of his memory.

In the next war, I don’t really know what will happen, I don’t know at all. I don’t want to know.

Escape

It is difficult to leave poor countries
just thinking about travel is a dream or a fantasy
it’s complicated and almost impossible.

The sea is wide and terrifying
it will eat you up like shipwrecks
Give up the escape
please do not commit suicide
do not throw yourself in the huge sea.

That wonderful day will come
when you spit at the borders
dragging your bag towards Europe
leaving behind your life collapses.

You will learn the languages of rich countries
you will try hard to use the fork and knife
you will face the white world with fear
Because it won’t be as you expected
a piece of cake will cost you a lot
and that piece of life you dreamt of
will be divided by trains and buses..
and time passes fast everywhere
in poor and rich countries as well
so please
do not commit suicide
do not throw yourself from the bridge.

From a train in Stockholm. Pic: Kawther AbuHani

Eva

I’m telling you a story of my memories…

It was at the beginning of the 2013 summer; it was a rainy day and it was my last day in Sweden that time. As always, I got lost, I took the wrong metro and therefore it took me an hour to know the right direction and to go back to Hornstull where you all were waiting for me at the Stage bar. I had never met you before. I was nervous, how will it be to sit at the same table with lesbians, two married women! I was the shy, conservative Arabic girl who hadn’t discover the world yet.

Eventually I arrived, I put my shopping bag under the table while you asked me in a very friendly way ‘show us what you bought’. I didn’t do it, I didn’t know how to behave and talk, because I was still nervous. I only said, ‘I bought some gifts for my family in Gaza’.

One year later, I moved to live in Sweden. I was thrilled of my new life, excited and afraid of new things. Everything was new, even the air of this country was new.

Then, Eva, I met you again. It was at the same bar, Stage. I was still nervous. But  meeting after meeting, I realized how wonderful you were. You and your wife, Camilla, were very curious about me as an Arab and about my culture.

At that time, I was newly coming out from a war and I needed friends, or someone to talk about what I left and what I carried in my heart and memories from my home city. And you were always there to listen to me and to pat my shoulder.

It became a part of my daily routine, to pass by Stage to check if you were there, so I could join you and Camilla. It was my best part of the day, to see you and talk about anything. You were my ideal of the strong woman who pushed me to change my life and to say ‘No’. You were also the big sister for me who gave me advises without hesitating.

Last week, I passed by Stage and went inside, I wanted to see you there, as before, and to join you, but there were only memories of you.

I’m one of many of those who learnt a lot from you.

You planted memories in us, and they will bloom forever.

Sleep well.

eva