December 1, 2009 Issue: 14

Published on the first Tuesday of the Month

Thirty-Nine Years After

By: Sara Al-Sheyadi

Our Sultanate is witnessing the happiest days of the year. It is rejoicing

in the blessings of the National Day. November 18 represents the birth
of every Omani’s pride; it is the birth of a father, a leader, and a teacher.
His Majesty’s birthday is nothing but the birth of a nation, the birth of
an advanced country, and the birth of a glorious, lively history. Since
His Majesty assumed the throne of the Sultanate in 1970, life in Oman
took another road: the road to total prosperity. Every aspect, no matter
where it stands in the line, has gone through a stage of reformation and
evolution. Education, health, economy, and all other components that
cooperate to create an advanced picture of Oman have been reshuffled,
again and again, throughout the past thirty-nine years in order to meet
Oman’s expectations, and take it to a higher status.

Eid Al Adha Almubarak goes along with Oman’s National Day. Here the
celebration is not only Omani; it is the celebration of the entire Islamic
nation. During these days, Muslims feel the blessings of this month,
and they joyously share the happiness of their brothers in Mecca who
are performing their Hajj. During the Eid, Muslims wear their best, and
visit their relatives and neighbors to wish them an Eid Mubarak. Then,
they offer sacrifices to Allah, and hence, comes the name of the Eid,
‘Al Adha’. It is celebrated in three days full of blessings and felicity.
Well, this year, Omanis are celebrating two Eids at the same time, which
doubles their happiness and pride.

This issue of Beacon is a continuation of our celebration of Omani

Literature, writers and intellectuals. Suleiman Al Ma’mari, the chair of
the Omani Society for Writers and Literati is interviewed to unfold the
story behind his story writing and to give an account of his experience
in Oman Radio. He also touches upon some serious issues concerning
the Society and Omani intellectuals. You will also read Dr. Mohammed
Al Amri’s, “History”: an interesting attempt to view history from a
different point: history as a present and a future, not only a past. It is
a human science that could be defined, categorized, and divided. In
another vein, Ibrahim Said’s, “Smoking”, is a unique meditation on the
reasons behind smoking and on a life full of paradoxes. We leave the rest
for our readers to enjoy.

We welcome all contributions and suggestions at:

Omani_beacon@hotmail.com

Image courtesy of: Society for Fine Arts

In this issue:

2 4 8
History Sulaiman Al-Mamari Scar of the Manacle
 December 2009
By: Dr. Mohammed Al Amri
Translated by: Abdul-Rahman Al-Maskari
HISTORY
History represents the past, but doesn’t the present
have history? And similarly, doesn’t the future have
history? What do we mean by history? And what
is history’s history? And what do we care about in
history? These are some questions we start with, and
because it is impossible to mention all the historical
events in a column or a news article no matter how
big it is; our review will be brief and short to be
considered under a ‘general knowledge’ category,
Editorial Supervision
which concerns every reader no matter what their
Azza Al Kindi specialization and interests are, and we shall start
Hammal Al Belushi from history’s history itself.
The era of history – in the view of a lot of historians
Editors
– starts with the appearance of ancient civilizations
Thomas Roche
that developed on the sides of rivers. For example,
Salim Al Kindi
the Egyptian pharaohs’ civilization appeared on the
Dalal Al Attabi
sides of the Nile and some civilizations emerged
Sara Al Sheyadi
around Tigris and Euphrates (Dijla and Furat)
Text Selection
like the Sumerian, Akkadian, Babylon, Assyrian,
Badr Al Jahwari
and Chaldean civilizations. The ancient Indian
Aysha Al Saifi
civilization appeared on the sides of Indus river,
Graphics Selection and similarly the ancient Chinese civilization that
Safaa Al Nabhani emerged on the sides of Huang Ho river. The city
is considered to be the unique characteristic of all
Public Relations ancient civilizations and as a centre of production
Umayma Al Harthi and trading of goods. All the ancient civilizations
Ahmed Al Hadhrami have the “expanding tendency”, where it started
from being a city to become an empire. Mankind
Design by started documenting history through engraving the
Mahmoud Al Hosni rocks and trees, and in the caves. Others say that
history started with the creation of the first man
Special Thanks to: Adam.
• Society for Fine Arts at Sultan
Moving away from the controversies of the start of
Qaboos University
history into the divisions that make up the study of
• Photography Society at Sultan history, we find that historians divide the historical
Qaboos University periods into the prehistoric periods, which included
• Department of Public Relations the Ice and Stone Ages. Then the periods after the
dawn of history, which included antiquity and the
& Information
Middle Ages. And the times of modern history,
which many say that it started with the European
Renaissance, the Contemporary Ages, and the
present time.
However, we have not understood yet what is
meant by history as a human science that exists
with civilization and wherever its position was in
the previously mentioned divisions of history? The
reader should know that the various schools of
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philosophy have attempted to clarify the meaning of
history and have attempted to settle on a definition
of the history. Perhaps Khaldoun’s definition of
history is the most accepted and used in some parts
of the world. Abdul-Rahman bin Khaldoun says
in his introduction, “History is one of the arts that
nations and generations confer, and great effort are
put into it, and the general public seek its knowledge,
and the kings and lords compete over it, and the
geniuses and the ignorant equate in understanding
it, as it appears to be nothing more than news about
the precedent days and nations in the early centuries,
where the sayings prosper in it, examples are set on
it, and is radicalized by clubs on occasions, and it
conveys to us how people’s conditions fluctuated,
and their nations’ scopes have expanded, and they
contrived the earth until they had to leave, and was
time for them to disappear, and in its core there’s
an accurate seeing, inspection, and an explanation
of the creatures and their principles, and a deep
knowledge of how things happened, and therefore it
is sincere and inveterate in its wisdom, and is worth
to be considered as a science, and should be.”
Thus, history is a science that interests the public
and individuals. Some create it while others brag
about it. Others enjoy knowing it or learning lessons
from it. History covers the human being and what
is connected to it. Every man, day, place, tree, and
idea have a history. Science has history, for there is
history of medicine, engineering, media, literature,
administration and economy. Hence, history is a
natural introduction to all sciences.
To sum up; history is a human science that concerns
us all, but its importance differs from one person
to another. Some of us care to read history, or seek
guidance from it, or enjoy its content or even create
it. Every decision maker is worried that history will
condemn them, for history is bound to reveal the
facts no matter how much time passes. It is like the
supreme court, which confirms facts by investigation,
documents, and evidence. The past has a history
that we must benefit from, and today has a history
that we must contribute in creating even if it is by
changing ourselves for the better, and tomorrow has
a history that we must put into consideration ■

By: Zahran Al-Qasmi
Qannah
Translated by: Mathla Al-wahaib
On one winter day, a villager was found dead in the
Falaj. He blocked the course of the Falaj and the water
flowed over and filled that place. It was evident that
he had been dead for a long time. Those who saw the
corpse noticed that the facial expressions of the dead
man suggested that he had died of fear; his open eyes,
the muscle cramps in his face and his gaping mouth.
All these things created a vision in the community’s
mind; it was a bizarre case. Murmurs spread through the
village about the bizarre way that the man had died.
Time passed sweeping away thoughts of the dead man.
The days were full of every-day happenings; people
had their own problems and were doing their best just
to live. Busy, people forgot about that incident. Nothing
remained of it but memories that would occasionally
come out of the blue to make men ponder in silence
about the dead man.
Days passed and another dead man was found in the
same spot lying dead in the same manner as the previous
corpse. He had the exact same facial expression of the
man before; full of panic and terror. People tried to
explain what had happened... they came up with horrific
stories about the place. The people believed in Jinn or
what they called “people of the underground” - in fact
they believed that the Jinn lived under the ground and
would come to the surface at night and roam as humans
were supposed to be sleeping. Based on that notion, the
villagers puzzled together that a female Jinn appeared
to the men who went to the course of the Falaj to water
their palm trees in the night. She had appeared to them
in her spine-chilling form and killed them for violating
the rules of the land.
Many villagers believed the story of the female Jinn
and some of them went as far as avoiding that place
even during the day. They were scared that they might
see her face by accident and she’d either kill them or
they’d lose their mind and spend the rest of their lives
being insane. Nonetheless, there were men who didn’t
believe this story and believed that it was just a joke
that aimed at keeping the spot quiet. Maybe there was
someone who used that place to do something secret
and they didn’t want to be bothered.
There was however one man who kept silent when
listening to the made up stories as if the matter didn’t
concern him. He never got involved in those discussions
about what was happening in the village. Some thought
he was insane while others accused him of many other
things. They considered him an odd person, but they
have never complained about having him around.
This man decided to discover the cause of what was
happening in the village.
He went in one of the darkest nights to the place where
December 2009
death might lurk, behind one of the palm
trees. He went there without anybody
knowing about his determination. He
reached the course of the Falaj and started
moving the stones to change the course
of the water. At that moment, when he
was kneeling, his head was bent; busy
in moving the stones and mud, he felt
something heavy climbing his back with
all its weight. He heard a loud scream.
Despite that, he didn’t squirm or get
scared. He said to the one on his back,
“Hold tightly, so you won’t fall down.”
Then he went to the nearest palm tree
and started rubbing his back on the trunk.
He heard a feminine voice; screaming
and wailing. He held her legs and hands
tightly and kept rubbing his back against
the trunk. Then he heard her saying,
“Please let me down… I’m Qannah.
You’re hurting me. I’m Qannah… don’t
you know me? You’re hurting me…
please… I won’t do it again.” He was
silent. He took a step forward and moved
away from the tree. He finally spoke, “It’s
impossible for Qannah to come here at
this time. You’re the Jinn that everybody
is talking about.” She said in agony, “No
please… I’m Qannah, there are no Jinns
here. There never was.” She wailed, “I’m
the one who did it.” He went again to
the trunk and rubbed her back again and
again while she screamed in agony. Then,
he threw her onto the ground and left.
The next day, early in the morning, people
started talking about a person who went
to water his trees last night and didn’t
get hurt. However, they talked about the
blood that was on the trunk of the tree and
the fight that seemed to have happened
there. There, near the bank of the wadi, a
woman was unable to move easily in her
tent. Her body was swollen and bleeding.
It was said that she had stayed in her tent
forever and never went out. Others said
that she had risen one night to light a
lamp, but it had fallen from her hand and
she along with her tent were consumed in
a raging fire ■
Image courtesy of: Society for Fine Arts
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 December 2009
Suliman Al-Mamari
Translated by: Ahmed Al Hadhrami
Suliman Al-Mamari is an Omani writer who has
found his way into the hearts of his readers. His
stories emerge from the depths of his soul. No
wonder he does not publish much. He has published
three short story collections in his fifteen years of
writing. His first two collections, “Perhaps Because
He Is a Defeated Man” (2000) and “Things Are
Closer Than That In The Mirror” (2005) formed
a rich literary experience that prompted many
people to get closer to them by reading, imitating
and criticizing them. His achievements include
winning the «Yousif Idrees» award for the Arabic
short stories in its first run in 2007. The reader
of Suliman’s stories can recognize his unyielding
spirit which defeats the coldness of isolation. He
says in one of his stories: “If I had a face, I would
gaze out of the window to watch rain and enjoy
the drizzle. Such beautiful music, but at the end of
the day, it’s nothing but a human voice. When one
is lying on an isolated bed and the window opens
onto an abyss, the cold shall swiftly creep into his
soul.”
In addition, Suliman Al-Mamari, who was born
in January 1974 in wilayat Saham, is also active
in the media at different levels. He is currently in
charge of cultural programmes for Sultanate of
Oman Radio and has demonstrated over the past
years tireless efforts in the implementation of his
motto: “Cultural programmes are not exclusive to
a selected elite”. He interviewed a large number of
intellectuals, and documented these interviews in
two books in co-operation with Dr. Abdulaziz Al
Farsi as co-writer. He also contributed to journalism
with many articles, which he then collected in his
book, My Friend, We’re All Frogs.
Suliman also chaired the Short Story Family at
the Cultural Club from 2007 to 2009. In 2008 he
was elected as Chairman of the Omani Society for
Writers and Literati. This interview is an attempt
to get closer to one of the most important voices in
modern Omani short story writing.
1. You started as a poet. What guided
you to short story writing?
I wonder now, did I really start out as a poet!
Let’s say, to be exact, that I began my career
as a writer with an attempt to write poetry. And
this is very typical in a country like Oman where
poetry constitutes a pillar of local culture to the
extent that we have a saying, “Under every rock
in Oman is a poet”. Any beginning author must
pass by poetry, in one way or another, before
settling on the genre through which he or she can
best expresses himself. It seems that poetry is the
divine path upon which every Omani must walk
in order to reach the heaven of writing. For me,
I began trying to write poetry, to express myself
in poems (which I consider now as naive). Once,
I decided to write a short story and I succeeded.
I figured out that this was where I was at home.
What made the short story genre more suitable
to me is the fact that it offers what poetry cannot
offer. It gives me the freedom to express myself
without worrying about rhyme, rhythm or endless
searching for figurative images. Now I can be
concerned with the story, not the way it happened,
but the way I want it to happen. It allows me to re-
establish my connections with people and life the
way I want, not the way they want. That is why it
remains my favorite genre, for now at least. I say
«for now» because I do not know what the future
has in store for me. If I find a genre that offers me
what the short story did, I won’t hesitate to try it.
2. Omani writing is usually serious,
but you are different. Your language is
rather sarcastic. Which Arab writers
have influenced you?
Before I answer that question, let me say two
things. First, I believe in the famous saying by the
sarcastic Turkish Writer Aziz Nasin that, “Sarcasm
is a serious matter.” Second, I don’t really intend
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to be sarcastic. It simply happens, without any
planning from my side. And I think that real
sarcastic writers can never claim otherwise. When
a sarcastic writer makes you feel that he intends
to be sarcastic, he loses the spontaneous edge
and the beauty of his work. Third, it seems that
the older someone gets and the clearer things
become to him, the more sarcastic he becomes
towards his surrounding world and its amazing
paradoxes. Personally I like sarcasm because its
effect is mightier than powerful speeches. Cynical
criticism is usually received by the criticized
much better than serious criticism. Moreover, I
do not think that I am the only sarcastic writer in
Oman. There are many writers for whom sarcasm
plays a major role in their stories and articles,
such as Mohammed Al-Harthi, Abdullah Habib,
Mazin Habib and Mahmoud Al Rahbi. As a matter
of fact, I consider the two stunning short story
collections by Abdulaziz Al Farsi “The Passers
By Their Fragments” and “The Bear Is Finally
Awake” under the category of sarcastic literature.
Outside Oman, I am a big fan of Zakaria Tamer,
Mahmoud Shuqair, and the Algerian novelist
Amarah Lakhous. I’m also impressed by the
articles of Ezzat Al Qamhawi.
3. Being the chairman of the Omani
Society for Writers and Literati, do you
think that the Society has succeeded
in attracting Omani intellectuals and
meeting their needs?
To a large extent, yes it has. But it has not fulfill all
of their aspirations because intellectuals’ dreams
know no limit. Yet here I have to stress the fact
that there is not a single type of intellectual with
which you can easily deal. Intellectuals in Oman,
like in any part of the world, vary in beliefs and
moods. Some of whom welcome voluntary work
and strive to serve others, some prefer to isolate

themselves and observe silently, and there are
those who observe from a distance and yell,
«We need… We demand... This must be…» and
when they are given the opportunity to work and
fulfill these demands, we find them loitering
and only playing the role of a critic. All of these
personalities exist not only in our Society, but in
most Arab associations. Nevertheless, I’m still
optimistic. The Society, which is only four years
old, has been able to attract many Omani writers
and has achieved a great deal.
4. Why haven’t you attempted to write a
novel yet?
Novels are beautiful pieces of work, but they
require time and effort, which I may not have at the
present. This doesn’t mean that I’m not thinking of
writing one, but let me first emphasize something.
I do not consider novel writing the next stage in
the development of a short story writer. The short
story is no less important than the novel. The only
difference is the technique applied. I believe that
one good story is better than ten bad novels. Four
years ago, I began writing a novel in which the
majority of characters were real people. However,
the death of one of the central characters (I mean
the death of the real person) made me stop the
entire project and postpone it to a later time that
may or may not come. When we write about
«living» people around us, we unleash our pens
because we consider them equal. We write without
any hesitation and with utter sarcasm. However,
dead people are different. A special aura emerges
from their graves and cripples you for a long time.
I may go back to that novel, but I am now in the
process of co-writing a new novel with my friend
Abdulaziz Al Farsi. We started writing it several
months ago and it has been a very enjoyable
experience, because we have decided to do it for
the joy of writing more than anything else. We
write alternately. One begins and the other has
to continue, without commitment to any special
plot that must be followed. I think we have came
a long way so far.
6. Your career began as a news editor for
Oman Radio. How did that experience
affect your writing?
December 2009
I have been an editor for seven years, and that 8. You used to be the chairman of the
period has been very enriching for me, both as Short Story Family at the Cultural Club.
a story writer and a human being. News stories
How do you see the progress of short
come to my computer from various international
story writing in Oman?
press agencies. Such news stories, were not
political, but economic, cultural, sport related, as I prefer to speak as a writer, not as a chairman
well as analysis of worldwide events. I consider for the latter – which is merely an administrative
that period as a long course in getting to know title. As a writer and an observer of the Omani
the world. When a story attracted my attention, I story writing tradition, I would say that the art
looked for more details in different press agencies, of storytelling is the most developed in Omani
and in a few minutes, a clear picture was formed. literature. Oman has remarkable experiences
I got to know the details of many stories about that are no less important than those in any part
wars, disasters and floods. Such stories cannot of the Arab world. Examples are Mohammed Al
just pass by a writer without being reproduced Yahyaei, Salim Al Tuwayyeh, Mahmood Al Rahbi,
creatively later on. One of my stories that I am Abdulaziz Al Farsi, Joukha Al Harthy, and Bushra
proud of, “Maraya (mirrors) Is A Broken Plural» Khalfan. The Sultanate is currently facing rapid
is about an economic news editor who boasts changes socially, economically and politically. I
that with a single click he can reduce the price am sure that these changes will enrich short story
of oil, incorporate companies, raise U.S. interest writing with amazing and unique stories.
rates and reduce financial markets’ indicators.
However, when he comes out of the radio station
and stops to fill his car with gas, he comes face to
9. What do Omani writers lack?
face with the fact that he doesn’t have any money!
I greatly owe a lot to my work as a news editor They need to get closer to their surrounding
due to which my thinking about issues beyond the environment and society and unveil their secret
news really expanded. tales. Fantasia and symbolism was an essential
phase to begin with. However, now that Omani
writers have found themselves, they must utilize
7. You said once that «Cultural their “real” environment in their stories. Our
heritage is mostly neglected in storytelling, except
programmes are not exclusively for a
for some efforts by a few writers like Rahma Al
selected elite.» How do you prove your Mughaizwi in her two collections”Kathyah bint Al
opinion to a world that has turned its Sheikh» and “The Book Of Dreams”, Mahmoud
back on culture? Al Rahbi in “The Path of the Bewitched” and
“Why Don’t You Joke With Me?”, Abdulaziz Al
I said those words in the context of a dialogue on
Farsi in “The Passers By Their Fragments” and
a one hour radio program I presented in Oman
“The Beer Is Finally Awake”, Younis Al Akhzami
Radio with my colleague Badr Al-Shaibani. It was
in “Inscriptions” and finally Yahya Al Manthari in
a daily program which celebrated the selection of
“A Lonely House In The Desert”■
Muscat as the Capital of Arab Culture in 2006.
Each day we hosted intellectuals and presented
other cultural topics such as story writing, poetry,
plastic art, and drama. I discovered through this
program that the stereotypical idea of the public is
that they consider culture as something heavy - and
this needs a lot of revision and scrutiny. However,
the program was well accepted as I received phone
calls, emails, and messages from ordinary people
who are typically considered as removed from the
field of culture. I certainly came to the conclusion
that cultural programs should not be exclusively
produced and consumed by the cultural elite and
intellectuals.
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 December 2009
Mohammed Eid's
"Scar of the Manacle"
By: Aysha Al Alawi
Translated by: Umaima Al Harthi
A Manacle that binds body and soul
A manacle is a prison that binds the body; a prison
is just a bigger chain that binds one to a place.
They both incarcerate the body, soul and mind. A
manacle does not need to be tangible as long as it
can oppress the soul. A spiritual manacle is rather
more severe than a physical one, because the latter
will be eventually untied, yet the spiritual one shall
prevail until the soul meets its inevitable doom.
Does Mohammed Eid want to lead us to this
spiritual meaning of manacles? Is he referring to
a physical or a spiritual manacle? Has he succeed
in reflecting the agony and suffering caused
by the manacle’s scar in his novel “Scar of the
Manacle”?
Time and Place
In “Scar of the Manacle”, the place is intentionally
marginalized, and with it time becomes
marginalized as well. The place is the «homeland
of those without home” – a presumed place
mentioned in the first paragraphs of the novel
only. This marginalization of place has many
hidden reasons. One is the author’s intention to
avoid touching a specific reality that might turn
his novel into a historical book. The events the
main character “Ali Al Nasser” experiences may
seem normal for political prisoners. However, the
author attempts to analyze the main character’s
personality and tiny details about him (childhood,
orphanhood, poverty), thereby unveiling Ali Al
Nasser’s miserable past that shackled his soul with
sorrow. These are the main manacles incarcerating
Al Nasser causing deep scars in his soul.
What is the nature of the society Ali
Al Nasser belongs to?
The answer of this question is found in the
first lines of the novel. It is a homeland for the
homeless, the poor and the pursuers of wealth
and power. It is a land with no modern cities; its We, as readers, are usually attracted to a novel
houses are made of tin sheets and unstable walls. when the author succeeds in making us part of it.
Neither the city, nor the homeland have an identity. After a while we begin to feel that we belong to
Yet, the citizens of these marginalized (or rather the novel, that it left something within us. This
inexistent) cities have dreams and aspirations that novel is by all means one of those great books■
are oppressed by force. The authority, being a legal
one, has fulfilled its job in this aspect because
those paupers can shake the stability of already-
unstable societies. Nevertheless, Mohammed Eid
does not dig deep in the details of the place. He is
satisfied with having the place (the homeland) as
a mere starting point, while the main character is
the central focus.
Ali Al Nasser
The other reason behind the intentional
marginalization of time and place is the author’s
desire to focus on the character, so that the readers
live and interact with Ali Al Nasser and his weak
personality. From time to time, Ali recalls the past
with its bitterness, in an attempt to be freed from
his manacles. Yet, there is no escape but to flee to
the deep corners of unconsciousness, like a wall
we lean on when we are surrounded by sorrow.
This results in the author’s indifference towards
the revolution mentioned at the beginning of the
novel. It was just an introduction to the main event
which gave birth to Ali’s personality. He then starts
to learn about his personality and its other sides in
prison. In other words, his personality is shaped in
prison and by his childhood memories which he
recalls so that he does not exist «without a past»
like his homeland.
In this novel, Mohammed Eid presents Ali Al
Nasser, the main and only character, as a simple
and slowly developing character. The novel is
mainly a personal memoire of a normal person
thrown into harsh circumstances. The irony lies
in Ali Al Nasser being an unyielding person who
never gives up despite the fact that he is a normal
person from a nameless city with no identity.
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 December 2009

Smoking
By: Ibrahim Said
Translated by: Badr Al Jahwari

Smoking is like coffee beans on a butterfly heading
towards the eternal fire. Tobacco is a fertile land near
the beach. The smoke is the sky of a cup of coffee in
a cruel night void of any conversation. It is a shelter
with no doors in a windy desert; a fragile yet adequate
shelter.
Smoking at the corner is like the alienation of existence,
for those who’ve discovered themselves, here and
now.
Solace of the lonely in the tyranny of gossiping is
searching for something lost in the smoke of tobacco.
It is a peasant with feet stuck in the mud, an empty-
handed sailor opening his house door slowly, a deserted
border post, here and now.
Those puffing smoke and departing are merely
expressing their inner fires. Smoke rising from the
wilderness of dry grass in their chests.
Groups of mediation addicts, run away from it with
gossip, instilling profligate laughter into the silent seas.
Their hearts’ waves cling to the sky, waiting for the
rain. Rain is but a thin drizzle falling on a lonely planet
in the dark.
I cannot forget the kiss of a hasty woman for a bored
man. I cannot forget the balcony of plants in a morning
promising beauty, yet without guarantees.
Here you see me talking about flicking lighters, and
matches lighting in the dark here and then. Here you see
me talking about broken pleasures, protection, spilled
blood, and non-stereotypes with tobacco containers
preserved in a place where they can be used at the
appropriate or inappropriate moment. This way, they
cannot miss the moments that are like electrical shocks,
cunning stillness, and a child’s toy under the rain.
Wooden pipes and tobacco sticks shake off their ashes
to preserve the heat of the little life ember within the
chamber. Endless burning, or rather endless attempts,
and a promise of a last tobacco moment on the farewell
bed.
Smoking in swift moments means a lot, for meaning is
here and now. Here and now: an exceptional breathing,
oxygen passing through tobacco embers kindle silence
with talk.
We smoke to seize the opportunity of watching our
puffs carried upon the smoke bird. Smoking is a game
of production and visual burning. We smoke for we
cling to nature; this is our mist, our dust. Why do we
smoke? Because we are burning; because we are dumb
dragons and because we think it helps life – after all,
what is life without its paradoxes?
Smoking is an incarnation of one’s life, starting from
the first light to the ashtray, the graveyard. We smoke
till we are thrown like a cigar butt and buried in the soil
after burning like a lifetime.
We finally smoke because we are already defeated in
the battle of salvation. Yet due to a strange unknown
coincidence within us, we find victory miscalculating
and favoring us after each battle. Perhaps, that is why
we smoke■

O Life By: Saleh Al Amri The Story of a Dog

Translated by: Safaa Al Nabhani

O life After seventy years

I don’t know you… of barking on land,
Who are you? Here is the woeful dog,
You knocked at my door, going into water,
then barged in, a swimmer,
Your deluge took me from my shirt carrying on his shoulders,
as sharply as a sword, the guilt of the past
sinking into my heart… and the nonexistence of the
And your wheels I tamed the time that has gone.
to be my chariot The dog shall bark no more
threw me into the bizarre hollow Rather, he shall quiver in his jewel,
Now, they say, he has just discovered
“He’s there..over there” He shall not even tell the difference
for you to know between life and death,
that you are distant, and between flying in the air and
that you barged in…■ drowning in the dreamy galaxy…■

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 December 2009
It Wasn't a Cat!
By: Ali Al Ansari
Translated by: Ahmed Al Sabei
It was 2:30 in the morning, no sign of life in this tree-
covered part of our village, except for the lights of a
blood-red Mercedes cutting through the darkness and
zooming towards the centre of the village.
Khalid: So, my friend, you decided to get married and
give up the bachelor life?
Sami (while driving): Yes, Allah be praised. One day,
you too will think about settling down.
Khalid: No, I don’t think so. You know that marriage
these days requires a fat wallet.
Sami: Hey, all you need is a little determination.
Khalid: Determination! It has no value in this
materialistic world. It seems to me that marriage is
an early stage of depression for most young people
struggling to make a living.
They were still talking when they noticed a distinguished
looking man in white clothes with a black bag in one
hand waving, trying to stop the cars. Sami didn’t stop.
Instead, he drove faster.
Khalid: Why didn’t you stop?
Sami: Haven’t you heard of the accidents?
Khalid: Watch out!!
Sami stepped on the brakes. The screeching tyres
disturbed the quiet night. Panic stricken, both jumped
out of the car. The bumper was covered in blood.
An eerie silence passed as the two friends took in what
had happened.
Khalid: Oh my God, he isn’t moving. He’s dead!
Sami (breathing heavily): I only saw him at the last
moment. Believe me!
Khalid: But you could’ve swerved or something!
Sami: That would have meant getting dust all over my
car, just so that this lost cat would live!
Three weeks later…
There were seven days left before Sami entered his
«golden cage.» As he had fainted the night before, his
father insisted that he sees a doctor.
Father: The wedding will be soon, my son. You must
go to the hospital.
Sami: But I am fine, dad. I was just a bit exhausted last
night. That’s all.
Father: I know that, but there is no harm in seeing a
doctor, just to be sure.
Sami: Believe me I…
He didn’t finish the sentence but collapsed in front of
his father. He was taken immediately to the hospital.
Sami’s father was staring out the hospital windows
and imagining the doctors reassuring him that his son
would be fine. From an examination room far down the
corridor, a doctor emerged.
Father (struggling to gather his thoughts): Doctor,
please! How is my son?
Doctor: We can’t find anything wrong with him.
Many questions went through the father’s mind as they
left the hospital. For a while, neither of them spoke, but
then the father decided to break the silence.
Father: Why don’t you go to see Hajj Mubark?
Sami: And who would that be?
Father: Hajj Mubark, my son, is one of the good people
who Allah blessed with the gift of treating people by
exorcizing Djinns.
Sami: What? Dad! Do you still believe in those silly
traditions?
Father: But this is the way of our ancestors.
Sami: Sorry, dad, but it is impossible for me to go to
such places.
A year after the wedding…
Something was happening in the delivery room where
Sami’s wife was giving birth. There were nurses
running everywhere. Suddenly, one fainted. Sami was
wondering what was happening in there when he saw
the doctor coming towards him. The doctor wanted to
speak, but the words failed him…
Sami: Doctor, what’s happened to my wife!!
Doctor (unable to organize his thoughts): Wait, you …
Sami (interrupting): What happened in there? Speak to
me?
Doctor: The baby has a head of human and the body
of… a cat !!!■
Image courtesy of: Kholod Al Maamri
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