Memories and reflectionsDancing the dance of life [Archives:2003/693/Culture]

By Adam Taha
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Months have already gone by and it really didn't hit me until I walked passed an open hut, which was a school. I watched as the children rocked to and fro, reciting verses from the Holy Qur'an. The old man that was teaching them looked up, started towards me and smiled. I walked back to a wall that was half of my height and sat down. I felt a soothing feeling within my soul. Suddenly they all stopped and the call of the prayer embraced the sky. At that time I didn't know what it was and nor did I know much about the words the kids were reciting. I didn't even know much about God.
I don't know what it was but I fell in love with that sound that glided through the blue sky. I felt a cool breeze touching my face as I saw the mothers and fathers of the children walking towards the school. It was only then that reality hit me hard about my parents.
It was then that I realised I'd be walking back home to find either an empty house where my grandma would be cooking or asleep. I watched as the children gave their goodbyes to their teacher. I kept on staring as the parents opened their arms to embrace their children. I felt empty inside and it was like my heart was breaking up into a millions pieces. I tilted my head backwards to stop the tears and my hands shaped them selves into clench fists. I could never get this image out of my head no matter how hard I tried. I don't know why but later on, by mistake or subconsciously; I included this experience into my treasure box of memories.
I never took that path again because I didn't want the school reminding me of what I saw. I wanted to somehow forget it ever happened and move on with my life. Life for me would never be the same even when I avoided walking passed the school. The only way I can explain it even more is that loves for anyone especially for your parents is like a fragile glass. It falls to the ground and breaking into so many pieces.

Picking up the pieces
You stared at the broken pieces and you know you didn't push that glass, someone else did but still feel it is your fault, your to blame for some reason. You pick up the pieces to fix them together with glue and no matter how of gluing them together, placing it on the mantle piece, when you stare at it, you will also see the cracks. I don't think my parents will ever understand in the years to come that the little they left behind will not be their little boy anymore. He will be someone different in many ways and he will trust them again.
As more months passed by I grew to think and act like a man and my innocence that all children should have drifted away to be replaced with grown up things. I began to watch how the men talked and walked, and duplicated them. I saw how they played their cards games, chewing a matchstick and acting macho, and I copied them. I watched how they would swear at each other even when they were the one who cheated and I copied them.
Through them I learnt to lie and cheat. I had no father at that present time to give me examples of how a great man should live. I had to find a way to learn and this was the only way for me. I suppose it made me feel safe. Instead of thinking like children do, I started to work on 'who is going to bring in the food? Can I find a job to bring in the money?' There were so many things I was thinking about, things that no child should really think about at that age.
The memories of my parents began to slowly disappear. I couldn't remember their eyes, their lips, their words, the way they walked and talked. Even the roughness of my father's cheeks or the smell of my mother's hair slowly disappeared. The stories I use to hear from my to teach me lessons or the history of Yemen or to give me lessons of courage slowly disappeared and it was hard to remember even one.
Did I feel anger towards them or bitterness? I was hurting, I was lonely and I felt rage growing inside of me. I was in some way working to invent myself, trying to forget the old me and create the new me with future consequences. Sure, my parents were doing what parents do, sacrificing and building for my future. What hurt me most was not the fact that they left me but if only they just said goodbye and explained to me what they were doing. That's all children ever really want; an explanation for why things happen so they can hold onto something, a reality to cling to. Hope.
The Boom of the Steel industry in England changed my life and it took away the two people I loved. I didn't see it as a means to make a better future for me. I just wanted my parents back home and the government wouldn't let a ten-year-old Yemeni boy leave his country until he's grown to be a man and served a few years in the military. I had only had two things that gave me some comfort and they were singing and music.
My love for music started when I made friends with someone called Khalid. I use to sneak out at night while my grandma went to visit my Uncles. I'd go and meet Khalid at the back of his house, which was a ten-minute walk. We would explore the tomato and red watermelon fields. Khalid's father had his own market stall, which sold not just fish but also vegetables, fruit, rice and powder for khubs. I was lucky to have a friend like him because he was a human being that taught me something special.
Something I rarely saw in my fellow man. I found kindness in him and the understanding of the power of giving. He would sneak an apple and some oranges for me and he never reminded me of his kindness. He knew I would have done the same if I were so fortunate. I remember when his father once caught him taking some dates for me and instead of his father getting angry he opened the cupboard, got some paper and wrapped up some more dates for me. They weren't a rich family in material wealth but rich in love and kindness.
Sweet were the memories and such was one of those treasured memories when Khalid and myself pretended to be explorers, searching for Hab Hab (red watermelons). As we walked closer to the field we heard drums beatings, clapping, music and men singing. We ran towards the beautiful sound of Yemeni music and stopped at a tree and climbed it. We quietly stared down at them, watching them sitting down on the floor and just celebrating life.
The singer was strumming an Oud as two men created rhythms on the small drum called the daff. The camp was full of men sitting in a large circle as a couple of them got up and started dancing. It was amazing to watch and I forgot about all my worries. I listened to the melodies as the other men began to join in and sing together through the chorus. I would have stayed longer but Khalid was getting hungry. We climbed off the tree and headed towards the fields of red watermelons.

Dancing like fools
We walked passed the cotton fields as we talked about what we saw. We saw it as an accomplished adventure, a memory to talk about through the years we knew each other. Through that dark night we walked and imitated the men, singing their words that I can still hear inside of me. If anyone saw us walking through the rocky roads of Yemen that day they would have thought we were crazy because we were dancing like fools, singing the words we heard like drunken youths.
It was like the story of this girl that found friends in a loin, a scarecrow and another character I just can't remember. They were following the Yellow Brick Road so she can ask the Wizard to help her to go back home and the lion wanted a brave heart. There was no yellow brick road for us and there was no Wizard at the end of this adventure to answer my many questions but there were fields of cotton, tomatoes, red watermelons and two young boys that had an amazing bond of brotherhood.
We stopped on our tracks because we saw a few men marching to and fro with rifles. Khalid stared at them and asked if we should just head back home but I was hungry now, and wanted to sink my teeth into the watermelons. We waited for the men to walk far away from us and started crawling on earth. I reached out to one large watermelon and Khalid began searching for a sharp stone and then we devoured it. The taste was amazing and the juice from the watermelon quenched our thirst. Khalid laughed when he saw half of my face covered in seeds, and then he asked me something.
'Have you heard from your mum or dad?'
'No,' I replied.
'Do you know where they've gone?'
'My grandma told me they went to England.'
'Oh! England!'
'Yes. Have you heard of it?'
'Yeah, its really far and you have to fly there on a steel bird. My older brother is studying there to be a doctor.'
'What's it like?'
'Well, from his letters it's a rich country but again, not so rich as everyone thinks.'
'What do you mean?'
'He says he has to pay for electricity which lights the house, the gas to cook the food, and he also pays for the house he lives in, the car he drives and so many things.'
'I thought it would be easier when it's a rich country.'
'No. My brother's letters told us that there's so much to pay for and by the time he got his money it all goes onto so many other stuff too.'
'Oh.'
'Can I ask you something but don't get upset all right?'
'Sure Khalid, what is it?'
'What if your mother and father sent money for you to go to England,' he paused, 'would you go?'
'I don't know.'
'Think of the new clothes, the toys and you can buy and you can go to school. You can have anything you want when you're in England.'
'That means I will have to leave you, wont I?'
'Yeah, I know but you know what you can do if that happens?'
'What?'
'Well, whatever you do, come back and help me out.'
'Yeah, I will always do that Khalid, you know that.'
'If you go there, what do you want to be?'
'I really don't know.'
'Hey, you could be the first Yemeni to walk on the moon!'
'Yeah! Or bring lots of sweets and have money to buy all the watermelons we want!'
'Hey, that would be great!'
'Yeah, wouldn't it!'
We walked back home that night with not just our stomach's full but we also walked with our hearts filled with dreams. Both of us had one thing in common after being Yemenis from the same village called Lahaj; we loved to dream big. As we walked with our dreams we also remembered the men who sang and danced, and as we sang we imagined an awesome orchestra accompanying us, lead by Khalid and myself. I pretended strumming on the Oud guitar and Khalid was on the daff drum.

Everything to live for
Even when we had nothing, it seemed we had everything to live for. And happiness for that moment didn't cost a penny. No money, no wealth, no glittered lights of fame or some cushy job could ever replace such a beautiful night as this one. If only I could turn back the time right now. I would want that moment to have lasted forever but like I said; nothing ever lasts forever. Swiftly do the pages of our lives turn through the passing years and how fast we somehow grow from a world where we believe anything is possible into a world that believes nothing so great can ever be achieved. Amazing how we so want to skip the pages.

I see you want more, I see it in your eyes
I hear you cry, 'has this become my life?'
Yeah it changed, it changed all so fast
Let me help you to take off that mask

I can see through it, just look into you're self
Deep inside you knew it, what you're really worth
Every night you do it, staying up to curse
There's no one else to blame, but you're self

Yeah I know its hurts
When you look deep into your self
Like knife cutting through your flesh
And your face to face with death

You don't need the wallpaper on your walls
You don't mobile phones to make the calls
You don't need the high heels to stand tall
You don't need any of these at all

You don't need to replace these beautiful lines
Or make a time machine to rewind the time
You don't need to join the rat race so you can win
Cause all you gonna do is lose everything
You believed in

You don't need to the face behind these words
See my love for you until it hurts
All you need to do is one simple thing
Look up to the sky, look up to the sky
And breathe it all in

You wanna live life over again
Breathe all the magic all in
You wanna live life over again
Breathe all the magic all in

You wanna live life over again
Start it all over again
But tell me when?
To breathe the magic of life in
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