We are of different nationalities; she does not speak my
language. So we are having an interpreter
I am behind the desk, they are in front of
it.
She is talking. I am noting.
She is not saying much. I am trying to
understand more.
The interview is about to end,
so she is standing up.
Before she goes, she says she forgot
to tell me something.
Aha, I nod.
She says that her stomach was burnt with
matches on her way through the desert.
MomentsThat Stayed
Some are happy, others are sad. Not all of them are mine. I felt them all anyway.
I decide to seek Google's help.
I type
the name of this guy who was a famous priest back in the
1940s.
He is an old friend of
my grandpa.
Now it is 2013.
Grandpa has not seen him
in ages; no pictures, just some authentic memories.
I decide to seek Google's
help.
I find his picture, so I screen it on that 70
inch TV Screen Grandpa has in his room.
Gedo, is that the guy you told me
about?
I ask.
He grabs his walking
stick.
He stands up and then slowly walks toward the
screen.
She is lying on a white movable bed, in a well-known
hospital.
Her Stomach is filled with water; my eyes are filled with
hidden tears.
Her kidney is not functioning. My brain is out of
service.
Doctors are saying that there is no hope. So it's time
to go home.
Is it? She asks. Yes,
we respond.
She puts her hands on the bed holder.
She
gets up out of the bed.
How is it
even possible to do that? We are all amused. She
starts walking.
Where are you going? Wait! Oh. She keeps walking.
She notices some blue gloves at the edge of
the corner.
She loves those gloves,
so she is taking all of them!
We laugh out
loud. It feels weird. She keeps walking.
Where
is she going?
Now she's going out of the hospital.
Okay, now she has reached the
car.
She looks back at the hospital and says
I am sitting behind the desk; she’s sitting in front of
it.
I am listening. She is talking.
This is my job now, I am a
caseworker.
I help women out who have been subjected to sexual
violence.
There is nothing I can do
so I am trying to be kind.
I am talking
about God. God is merciful.
God is
there. God can help you.
She believes that. It's
comforting.
I am frightened, I went
to see therapists but I have stopped going to
them.
Whenever I go there, I feel… She
shifts her eyes, going back and forth and then straightly back to
me.
She is traveling to Europe.
The day before her flight
I find myself walking with her.
I am gazing at
her.
She is so gorgeous.
Of
course, she is.
She is my best friend!
She was my best friend.
Grandpa, do I look like Grandma?
You have
You’re very kind, and she was
a charming smile, and she had it too.
Your smile speaks your
kindness, and she had that too.
that too.
I forever used to wait for Eid al-Adha,
so that I can blackmail him.
“Oh, why do you stay upstairs
and leave your brothers down while they are performing the
rituals?”
“You’re not afraid of
slaughtering a cow, are you?
She is not going to hunt you,
Uncle!
He laughs. He says that the next
Eid al-Adha he is going to travel away
from the country, just to avoid my sarcastic comments. I laugh.
At this moment, we are
gathering.
He is making sure that everyone has his own dish full of
food before he starts eating.
Do you know why I don’t like to be
there while they’re slaughtering the cows each Eid al-Adha?
Because you’re frightened?
No, because I don’t like to see them
while being slaughtered, it hurts me
I am a nature person.
Nature is raining.
So I
am definitely going downstairs.
She says she's going with
me. I say cool.
This is cool.
I have my camera, but it's out of
battery.
Yet it is raining! Who cares about anything?
Every time
we need it, it happens to be out of battery! She
says.
I look at the falls, and I gaze.
Half an hour, an hour,
two hours, I just don't care.
I glimpse an
Indian old lady.
She doesn't comprehend my
English; I smile anyways, and she smiles back.
I see some old American man,
he offers to take a picture for me.
My camera is just not working.
My Camera is wet, my phone
is wet, and my hair
is wet.
I'll probably get some cold, I really
don't care.
An Indian guy passes by,
Out of all of the people here, you seem to
enjoy yourself the most, he says.
I laugh.
It's the New Year's Eve.
We are gathering just
like we used to at my aunts'.
We are gathering, just
like we used to before the hard time my family had to go
through.
We are singing.
We are content.
I am mystical.
I
am trying to check out everyone in the room.
It's hard when you observe people,
who have encountered loss and grief while having some fun.
Now you
are confident it is never complete.
Do you want to stay like this? You have responsibilities!
We should not act as if you’re dying; let’s pull it all together.
"Don't you see? Don't you see I am dying?
We were hanging out with a group of friends
blabbering about life in an attempt to let time pass.
My friend popped in, and randomly gave me a silver earring.
What is that? I ask.
Earrings, she replies.
I go back
home. I talk with her.
I bought it for you long
ago.
I was thinking of a way to give it to you,
without making you feel it's a gift, she says.