In Memory of My Mother-In-Law The Great Lady of the Mountain [Archives:2000/24/Focus]

Samira Ali Daair
I have been craving for a long smoke, as we sit on this terraceÉwitness of the long struggle in these mountainsÉreliving together all the sagas of the village;
I watch your eyes sparkle- with the force of your love for life- even though they begin to look like time-worn jewelsÉ family heirlooms cast asideÉalas all that glitters is not gold!
I have seen you run up these mountainsÉchallenging the rigors of natureÉyour spirit like the blazing sun on a gloomy winter dayÉbreathing life into deadened soulsÉbefore the harvest.
I have seen you so proudÉso strongÉhiding your tears behind brave smilesÉwhen your Adonis fell before your eyesÉa helpless heap.
I watched your sad descent from the heights since- as with faltering steps and hunched shoulders, you were like a wounded birdÉwith clipped wings, you ceased to ride so high;
The village people called it old ageÉdoctors as usual blind with scienceÉsophisticated namesÉI knew you were dying of a broken heartÉstrange languageÉpeople who had no time to listenÉa world suddenly gone strange.
I often lived your sadness as I watched the perplexity in your eyes behind the hazy smoke as we sat many times on this terraceÉthe lines of history peeping from every crackÉyour tales of this and that and of what might have beenÉ a strange anachronism.
The silent communion of spirits needs no language, often defying sound barriersÉ Like Beethoven in deafness composing the 9th symphony;
You and I come from different worldsÉbut the moment I saw you standing in these mountainsÉ I knew we were kindred spirits within the Time MachineÉboth of us ever struggling against the tide and defying the gale!
How often we walked down these valleys as you held my hand like a fond mother leading an ignorant daughterÉto the secrets of the earth. You pointed out the wonders of this land – bearing its fruit with the pouring of sweet people forever waiting for the rainÉ
The land you cherished and I learned to love.
None around you could understand your wisdom as you often hid your sorrow behind a sharp tongue and flippant words. They never felt the throb of life in your big, warm heartÉthey only saw a broken old lady, struggling not to need any oneÉleaning on her cane as life’s creature comforts are nobody’s birthrightÉin the grinding toil of village life.
They could never understand your need to rise to the heights and touch the clouds.
I often saw you gazing yonderÉacross the valleys into the empty spaces beyondÉinto the mysteries of life and death. You would pat my head fondly as you saw the tear in my eyesÉand with an unearthly smile you would tell me, you wanted to go beyond and join him
So many times you fell, only to rise againÉlike a brave warrior returning from the frontlineÉand with a fresh twinkle in your eyesÉfighting for life with a tired spiritÉ Dear brave lady of the mountainsÉdaughter of Bilqees who like you weathered all the storms;
Alas time waits not for man as a neat list of undone choresÉfleeting moments of joy and sorrow like the flickering shadows of this kerosene lamp as I write where on the same terrace;
How can I ever walk alone on these mountainsÉnothing is the sameÉbut no I am not alone.
I see you sitting underneath the Acacia tree eating berries as you shade your eyes from the sun.
I hear your voice teasing the village girls whose laughter echoes near the old wellÉ
I hear your voice whistling through the wind and your lively face engraved on every stone as I watch your small lithe form walking up these mountains once more.
Your spirit shall live onÉto guide the steps of village womenÉto teach generations the secrets of lifeÉyour legacy of loveÉand that you can only take what you give to the land.

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