Darkness had swallowed the light, signifying total solitude. The cruel winter drove cold gusts onto trembling faces. Snow covered the whole area and nothing could resist it except the chimneys of fireplaces that stretched everywhere he looked.
Walking out in that freezing weather was a sort of madness. However, he was determined to go out. Despite his stumbling steps, which were propelled by his depressed spirit, he carried on walking. He was eager to escape from sitting in front of his fireplace to search for a wider world.
When he reached the main street, he breathed a sigh of relief as the city streets looked congested with cars and people who were walking and trembling with cold. He asked himself why he had come out but he did not know except that he wanted to feel the heartbeat of life despite the cruel winter. He studied people’s faces, but he could not see any sign that would tell him if they were walking about like him or if they had come out for something.
His trembling body started chiding him to return to his fireplace at home. Unconsciously, he continued walking despite the depression that dominated everything around him. A blurring of his vision caused by snow was closing in on his chest. He tried to forget about the cold and fog by feeling the deep nostalgia within his torn soul.
He recalled the warmth of his homeland in spite of its miserable situation and harsh reality. He pondered the charm of the Orient and said, “How difficult life is when we are away from our homeland.” As tears streamed down his cheeks, the first tear froze while the other tears whipped his heart harshly with homesickness.
Seeing the bright colours of flowers, he cheered up and the grey colour dominating the place faded away. He kept looking at the flowers that defied the severe cold. He contemplated them ecstatically. He was desperately in need of fragrance that would rid his nose of the smell of burning wood. Soon he realised that the numerous vivid colours were in a cemetery. This was the last place he wanted to see. He tried to dismiss the image of graves from his sight but he could not. It took him back to the day, a year ago, when he had buried his brothers in a collective grave in Jenin Camp. On that day he did not find enough room to cover the overwhelming fear that appeared on the faces of the dead. There was a big difference between this cemetery and that mass grave.
He wanted to forget that memory by leaving the cemetery. On his way out, he saw the feet of a middle-aged lady who approached one of the graves and started crying. When he looked at her, he felt that he had been summoned by the high court of sadness wherever he went or travelled, as if destiny was chasing him to imprison him in the realm of tears. As he stood to watch her, she said to him, “How hard it is when we lose our loved ones!”
Hearing her words, he felt as if someone was stabbing him repeatedly. At that moment, he became certain that the high court of sadness had started acting on its decision to arrest him.
The lady did not give him the chance to think as her words struck him like a thunderbolt. “I loved him so much. He passed away suddenly. I have had no taste for life for a year. After I lost him, I felt that time was taking me to a slow death.” As the lady started crying bitterly, he became more certain that the high court of sadness had sentenced him to life imprisonment.
The lady spoke again and this time she was describing her Romeo with the passion of Juliet. He did not take in the details of her speech. Suddenly, a puzzling question popped into his head. “If westerners understand the meaning of loyalty to friends, then why do they mistreat their Arab friends?”
The lady spoke incessantly and quickly like a train that had lost its brakes. But he was struck by one sentence. “I used to feed him the best food and I even used to buy him distilled water lest he caught dog fever.”
His eyes bulged and he stood as if pinned to the ground. He was not able to reply or think. Dogs? What have dogs got to do with Romeo? The lady continued to talk, not giving two hoots about his astonishment or perhaps the tears streaming down her face prevented her from seeing his shock. Fatigue pushed him to stop her even if he had to scream into her face. So, he yelled, “Who is the dog, madam?” Astounded by his loud voice, her torrent of words stopped. She said, “It’s Bob, my dog, who was everything in my life. And I came here today to lay a wreath of flowers on his grave. It has been a year since he died.”
“Me too. It has been a year since my whole family passed away,” he replied sarcastically.
She was shocked and said to him, “Sorry, but this cemetery is for dogs”. He interrupted cynically, “I have just realised that it’s a dogs’ cemetery. So, excuse my loud voice that must have disturbed the souls of the noble dogs”.
He rushed out of that place as if the high court of sadness had decided to sentence him to hard labour in addition to life imprisonment. He felt his pain wringing his heart when he remembered Jenin, Rafah, and the mass graves in Iraq. He shouted at the top of his voice, “Long live noble dogs. This is your age. So, enjoy your glory!”
Walking out in that freezing weather was a sort of madness. However, he was determined to go out. Despite his stumbling steps, which were propelled by his depressed spirit, he carried on walking. He was eager to escape from sitting in front of his fireplace to search for a wider world.
When he reached the main street, he breathed a sigh of relief as the city streets looked congested with cars and people who were walking and trembling with cold. He asked himself why he had come out but he did not know except that he wanted to feel the heartbeat of life despite the cruel winter. He studied people’s faces, but he could not see any sign that would tell him if they were walking about like him or if they had come out for something.
His trembling body started chiding him to return to his fireplace at home. Unconsciously, he continued walking despite the depression that dominated everything around him. A blurring of his vision caused by snow was closing in on his chest. He tried to forget about the cold and fog by feeling the deep nostalgia within his torn soul.
He recalled the warmth of his homeland in spite of its miserable situation and harsh reality. He pondered the charm of the Orient and said, “How difficult life is when we are away from our homeland.” As tears streamed down his cheeks, the first tear froze while the other tears whipped his heart harshly with homesickness.
Seeing the bright colours of flowers, he cheered up and the grey colour dominating the place faded away. He kept looking at the flowers that defied the severe cold. He contemplated them ecstatically. He was desperately in need of fragrance that would rid his nose of the smell of burning wood. Soon he realised that the numerous vivid colours were in a cemetery. This was the last place he wanted to see. He tried to dismiss the image of graves from his sight but he could not. It took him back to the day, a year ago, when he had buried his brothers in a collective grave in Jenin Camp. On that day he did not find enough room to cover the overwhelming fear that appeared on the faces of the dead. There was a big difference between this cemetery and that mass grave.
He wanted to forget that memory by leaving the cemetery. On his way out, he saw the feet of a middle-aged lady who approached one of the graves and started crying. When he looked at her, he felt that he had been summoned by the high court of sadness wherever he went or travelled, as if destiny was chasing him to imprison him in the realm of tears. As he stood to watch her, she said to him, “How hard it is when we lose our loved ones!”
Hearing her words, he felt as if someone was stabbing him repeatedly. At that moment, he became certain that the high court of sadness had started acting on its decision to arrest him.
The lady did not give him the chance to think as her words struck him like a thunderbolt. “I loved him so much. He passed away suddenly. I have had no taste for life for a year. After I lost him, I felt that time was taking me to a slow death.” As the lady started crying bitterly, he became more certain that the high court of sadness had sentenced him to life imprisonment.
The lady spoke again and this time she was describing her Romeo with the passion of Juliet. He did not take in the details of her speech. Suddenly, a puzzling question popped into his head. “If westerners understand the meaning of loyalty to friends, then why do they mistreat their Arab friends?”
The lady spoke incessantly and quickly like a train that had lost its brakes. But he was struck by one sentence. “I used to feed him the best food and I even used to buy him distilled water lest he caught dog fever.”
His eyes bulged and he stood as if pinned to the ground. He was not able to reply or think. Dogs? What have dogs got to do with Romeo? The lady continued to talk, not giving two hoots about his astonishment or perhaps the tears streaming down her face prevented her from seeing his shock. Fatigue pushed him to stop her even if he had to scream into her face. So, he yelled, “Who is the dog, madam?” Astounded by his loud voice, her torrent of words stopped. She said, “It’s Bob, my dog, who was everything in my life. And I came here today to lay a wreath of flowers on his grave. It has been a year since he died.”
“Me too. It has been a year since my whole family passed away,” he replied sarcastically.
She was shocked and said to him, “Sorry, but this cemetery is for dogs”. He interrupted cynically, “I have just realised that it’s a dogs’ cemetery. So, excuse my loud voice that must have disturbed the souls of the noble dogs”.
He rushed out of that place as if the high court of sadness had decided to sentence him to hard labour in addition to life imprisonment. He felt his pain wringing his heart when he remembered Jenin, Rafah, and the mass graves in Iraq. He shouted at the top of his voice, “Long live noble dogs. This is your age. So, enjoy your glory!”
“ Glory to the Dogs ”
Translated by: Yusuf Salah Elhajjar
Translated by: Yusuf Salah Elhajjar
The End
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