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Osman Salih Poem
THEN:
The first day of Ramadan,
We all gathered at your house
All year, we were waiting for this day,
For your stories, advices and prayers.
Except, your orders to your children:
“You level the ground,” “you spread the rug,”
“You bring the drinks,” “you bring the foods.”
The children scared of your orders,
Scared of your punishments.
But, lessons for their future,
Signs of love, signs of care.
“A’abba,” “a’abba,” “a’abba. (Father, father, father).
Time to eat, the sun was down,
“A’abba” the leader.
Your favorite food: dates and yogurt.
Your favorite drinks: “qameraldeen” and “aqood.”
Time to stand in rows to pray;
“A’abba” the imam.
Time to relax; you said it was a long hot day
Your worked in the heat, you rested under a tree,
You washed from the river, you prayed in the field.
You proud of your children:
One in college, and one just accepted,
One in high school, and one just accepted
One in intermediate school, and one just accepted
One in elementary school, and one just accepted.
You repeated: “Alhmadulillah, Alhamdulilla, Alhamdulillah,”
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NOW:
The first day of Ramadan,
We all gathered at your house.
All year, we were waiting for this day,
For your stories, advices and prayers.
But this time, you were too weak,
You were laying, stretching, on you bed.
Couldn’t sit, let alone stand,
Couldn’t talk, let alone laugh.
Wasn’t that a faint smile,
On your bony face?
Wasn’t that a silent prayer,
On your thin lips?
Last year, you smiled wide,
And prayed loud:
“May next Ramadan be also glorious.”
Glorious Ramadan,
But without your stories, advices and prayers.
Your grand-children surrounded you,
Some carrying drinks, some carrying foods:
Your favorite drinks: “qamaraldeen” and “aqood.”
Your favorite food: dates and yogurt,
“Jiddo,” “jiddo,” “jiddo.” (grandpa, grandpa, grandpa) calling.
But, “jiddo” wouldn’t eat
“Jiddo” wouldn’t drink.
In the circle around the food, “jiddo” was not there,
In the rows for prayer, “jiddo” was not there.
“Where is the imam?”
“Who is going to be our imam?”
You motioned with your hand: he will be imam.
The “imam” hesitated, trembled and stuttered,
No “imam” like “jiddo.”
You noticed; tears came down your cheeks.
Farewell tears, farewell words:
“Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah
My end, facing death,
Your future, with love and care.
Until we all meet in Heaven.”
Amen “jiddo,”
Amen “a’abba,”
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Copyright © Osman Salih | Year Posted 2017
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Osman Salih Poem
The Nile River seems like standing still;
But is actually continuously running, continuously promising.
By day, by night;
Depositing on its shores sands and rocks and debris.
Green farms stretching along;
Tall palm trees overlooking the scene.
Trees’ long “jareed” (leaves) freshly green;
Old dry “jareed” are houses roofs.
Old leaves, old roofs, old houses.
All sleeps in darkness and silence.
The sky crowded with stars;
The full moon immersing behind the Nile.
Until microphones are opened and tested and adjusted;
“Allahu Akbar” thunders.
From this village, from that village, form all villages.
The Divine Orchestra is followed by roosters’ orchestra;
“Cock-a-doodle-doo”; “Cock-a-doodle-doo.”
One sounds like a bazooka; one like a tuba; one like a flute; and one in a soprano;
All like praying.
Then, the birds’ orchestra;
There on the trees: “ganabir” (larks), “asafeer” (finches) and “qamari” (doves).
There on the Nile: “wizeen” (goose), “bat” (ducks) and “rahaw” (Cran).
There in the sky, “soqoor” (buzzards), “hidayat” (kites) and “rakham” (vultures).
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Men coming out of the village’s mosque;
After “hai ala alsalah” (time to pray), “hai ala alfalah” (time to work).
Here comes Moslab;
The village sailor.
His boat crosses the Nile;
Carrying people, animals, goods and things.
He just prayed for the winds:
Weak winds don’t fill the sail, but heavy winds raise the waves.
Moslab prayed for full sail, but calm waters.
Moslab is not sure, so, he prayed and prayed.
Soon, the boat will be full;
Hassan’s mule, Ali’s two donkeys, Mahmoud’s three sacks of dates, and Aisha’s four goats.
At the other side of the Nile, people coming from Khartoum;
Omer’s sewing machine, Abdu’s two suitcases, Said’s three sacks of sugar, and Osman’s four plastic chairs.
But, Moslab is not sure about the winds;
He will pray all day.
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Here comes Dirar;
Our next door neighbor.
He sat in from of his house;
His wife brought him tea with milk and “gargoosh” (home-made biscuits).
Soon, it will be “hai ala alfalah” (time to work);
Soon, he will work at his sewing machine.
Soon, he will buy sacks of dates.
Soon, he will sell newspapers from Khartoum.
In Dirar’s shop, there are clothes, date sacks and newspapers;
They are all over the place.
Ahmed will come, and Hussein and Abdeen;
Politics time; they will argue and argue and argue.
“The politicians in Khartoum only care about themselves;
Not about us, the poor people.”
It is all in the newspapers.
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(to be continued)
Copyright © Osman Salih | Year Posted 2017
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Osman Salih Poem
Here comes my father;
“Sheikh Al-Arab.”
My mother made him, also, tea with milk and “gargoosh.”
Now, time to fill “al-azyar” (water clay-containers);
They are under the two huge trees in front of our house.
Their waters are “sabeel,” for everyone passing by;
Might be going to, or coming from, Moslab’s boat.
Might be going to, or coming from, Dirar’s shop.
“Sheikh Al-Arab” fills “al-azyar” from the “toromba” (water-pump).
His children are glad to help;
Excited by the “toromba”:
Its handle makes a musical sound as it goes up and down.
Its water is clear.
And it beats brining water from the Nile.
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Here goes Abdul-Hameed;
Leaving to his farm.
Riding his old weak gray donkey;
Holding his lunch bag.
Probably bread and dates;
Probably hard-boiled eggs;
Probably leftover from last night dinner.
He already had breakfast;
His wife made him, also, tea with milk and “gargoosh.”
The donkey’s lunch will be grass from the field
The donkey’s lunch will be fresh.
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Here comes Nafeesa;
Leaving the “zareeba” (animals’ shelter).
Today, her goats were generous;
Lots of milk.
Her husband and children are waiting;
Time for tea with milk and “gargoosh.”
Her dog accompanied her to the “zareeba”;
And back from the “zareeba.”
But, no tea, no milk, and no “gargoosh”;
Probably an old bone.
Only when Nafeesa’s husband slaughters a lamb;
“Kibda” (kidney) for breakfast.
And lots of meat for everyone.
And for the dog.
And for other village’s dogs.
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Here comes Widad and her four children;
Carrying one, and three behind her.
They are going to “jiddo” (grandfather);
They will all have tea and milk and “gargoosh.”
“Jiddo” is waiting and it is getting late;
Widad will feed them all
They walk hurriedly in the dirt street;
Dust arises behind them.
Two children walk barefoot;
The lucky third has old slippers.
Two children wear few clothes;
The lucky third looks better.
“Jiddo” is waiting; more speed; more dust.
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Here comes Khadeeja;
The little thin girl, carrying a plate.
She is going to Zahra’s house;
Zahra makes “zalabiya” (fried dough balls).
There will be Zainab, Alawiya, and Fatima;
All sitting on the ground, around the “saj” (big wood-fire fry-pan).
All almost sleep;
All patiently waiting;
Zahra’s “zalabiya” is cooking.
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(to be continued) .....
Copyright © Osman Salih | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Osman Salih Poem
Here comes Abdul-Gafoor;
Tall, strong and bare-chest.
He will soon cross the Nile;
To Mahmoud’s Island, to Mahmoud’s “saqia” (water-lifting wheel).
He will work all day;
Watering and planting and harvesting.
Corn and wheat, tomatoes and cucumbers.
He will return in the evening;
With fruits, vegetables and milk.
His milk customers will be waiting:
Moslab and Dirar and “Sheik Al-Arab.”
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A “dahash” (baby-donkey) running;
To catch up with his mother.
Cows eating “tibin” (dry grass);
Their tails wave away flies and mosquitoes.
A raging bull tied to a tree;
Bellowing, kicking and digging dirt.
Goats herded towards the Nile;
Plenty of grass.
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Morning in the village;
“Hai ala alsalah” (time to pray), then “hai ala alfalah” (time to work).
Except Wali, in his eighties;
Wali carries a huge Koran all day.
In the mosque, by the Nile, under the trees, back to the mosque, by the Nile, under the trees, back to the mosque.
All day, “hai ala alsalah.”
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(End),
Copyright © Osman Salih | Year Posted 2017
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