La ricorderò come una delle esperienze più belle, emozionanti e indelebili della mia vita.
L'impatto col deserto, dopo il caos della Medina, è forte.
L'atmosfera allo @scarabeocamp
è magica: l'accoglienza gentile di Abdul con tè e biscottini, fare amicizia con i cammelli, chitarra e musica attorno al fuoco e durante la cena, aspettare la notte per guardare le stelle e dormire in una tenda curata nei minimi dettagli per poi svegliarsi con lo spettacolo che solo un'alba sa regalarti.
Non credo ancora di aver realizzato quanto successo in queste 24 ore sconnessa dal mondo.
“Is everything alright with you, Z?” “Are you depressed?”
These are the questions i was asked in response to what I’ve been writing lately.
As a matter of fact, I’m not depressed. In fact, if you come to know me, you’d find me to be one of the most smiling persons around. Someone who loves her job and is intrigued by the place where she works everyday. After work, you’d find me joking around with colleagues, sharing meals with nurses, gossiping with the URs etc.
But when I’m done with the day, & as I begin to switch off the swing arm lamp & close my eyes, that’s when it strikes me.
That young girl, who was abandoned by her husband 7 years ago-only 2 months after their marriage- for the only reason that she had an overactive bladder i.e she had to go to pee every hour as it was beyond her control. He found leaving her to be more convenient than seeking treatment. She comes in front of my eyes and asks me if its that easy to give up on someone you love?
That annoying daughter of an elderly man with CA prostate, who got me paged 5 times only to discuss the same thing every time-treatment options for her dad & the pros and cons of each option. She asks me if I’d ever be able to beat her by taking care of my parents as she takes care of hers?
That frail man with respiratory failure, who was on BIPAP & needed frequent ABGs. Every time I went to take his sample, he would shake his head with teary eyes as if not granting me the permission to prick. But the family would insist me to go ahead, the resident rejected my request to honor the patient’s wish, and the pulmo team demanded the tests. He comes to me & asks me to apologise; for the pain that I caused him for the sake of his own health.
The last time i prayed at my hospital’s mosque, a lady praying beside me began screaming, “why did you do this to me, Allah?” “WHY?” Her voice still echoes in my mind. I fail to forget it.
So, I wake up, turn the light on, and write. I write till my fingers hurt. I shed tears because for some of us this human experience has been a little too painful. & for others, the pain is awaiting us on the other side. The clock is ticking. The grim reaper is longing for us. For all of us.
"In the middle of the noisy and busy beautiful #izmir #bazar
there are more than 20 synagogues that are haven of peace", says Sara Pardo a descendant of sepharadic Jews and that speaks ladino, the medieval Spanish. Crazy. It has been a very emotional day discovering the most beautiful Jewish traditions of levant, the care and the love for this land. Photo number 3 you can see a raised platform (bimah) for the person leading the service, shaped as a boat "the boat that brought us from Spain" says Sara. Check also the names in the walls: Pardo, Leon, Amado, Benmayor... #turkey
“If I Had A Boat” This is a post I hate typing out. But this is dedicated to my friend, Elizabeth Ruby. She passed away on Thursday, and the world is worse off than it was when the week began. She was a great writer, journalist, flutist, sailor, and avid Lady Huskies basketball fan. She was always a big supporter of mine, and gave this particular print to her dad last year. She was my friend, and I will miss her dearly.