Category Archives: Quamar Al-Mumin

“War is peace; Freedom is slavery; Ignorance is strength” by Hawra’a Khalfan and Quamar Al-Mumin

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War is peace.

 

“Abu Osman, trust me on this- people implode when you control them. It is only human nature,” her mother pleaded as she watched her husband explode with rage. I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this. I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. Is he actually putting up a fight? Seriously? There is no logic behind anything he is saying. What does he mean women shouldn’t drive? ALL women shouldn’t drive? Yeah. Sure. Like he would be where he is without the women in his life. He is a fucking tyrant. All I want to do is depend on myself. All I want to do is be able to take my life into my own hands. He of all people should realize that. Aggravating little shitty tyrant.

“Baba, this isn’t fair” I looked at him as my eyes filled with tears. “Osman turned eighteen last week and he already has his drivers license? What reasons are there that I as a twenty-one year old can’t drive, but Osman can?”

 

Her father looked at her tearful eyes, the wrinkles on his face got deeper and deeper as his snarky smile erupted. “Because your father said so. Osman is now a man and doesn’t need me to show him right from wrong. But you? You will always need my guidance.”

 

Her mother stepped in, she was starting to get angry but knows better than to raise her voice to Abu Osman. “Honey, just listen to her reasons for wanting to drive. I am advising you to let her do this because people do not take kindly to being restrained. Trust me on this. Trust me, please. Trust me for her sake.”

 

“I have told you a million times, Um Osman! I will not change my mind. This human nature you speak of doesn’t apply to Shurooq. We have raised her well, she has never disobeyed me, what makes you think that she will start at the age of twenty one?”

 

Um Osman closed her eyes, she knew exactly what he would say but she hoped that for an instant he would take in her words and truly listen to them.

 

This isn’t over. “Baba. Can you please just give me a reason as to why I shouldn’t drive? Just convince me? And ‘because I said so’ just isn’t a good enough reason for me, please Baba.” I pulled down my bottom lip as far as it would go and widened my eyes to look up at him.

 

“Well, for starters- how will I know where you are at every moment?” He gave a disapproving look. “You think I will let my daughter out in the streets ALONE?!”

 

“You know Baba, I can always send you a whatsapp location of wherever I am? There is no other way to send the location other than from the spot you’re in!” I lied. Finally, dad’s technologically challenged self is good for something!

 

“Men will still harass you in the streets, what will you do then?”

 

“Erm, well- I can call you or Osman to come bail me out of these situations because there is absolutely no way I can fend for myself.”

 

“Okay but you are a girl, you’ll definitely have many car accidents, what then?”

 

“Yeah I know I know, we’re terrible, but! How about you get the car fully insured and you won’t have to pay a fils to fix it???” Having to be a misogynist just to be able to get a little freedom around here, the irony.

 

“Shurooq I want you to have all these nice things your friends have, but the only time a girl can start calling herself a woman is when she is married with children. I think it would be better if you didn’t drive yet because who will marry a girl who has this much freedom?” He looked at me with a face full of worry. “Girls with freedom never become women because they are never chosen to be wives. What will happen to you then?”

 

Holy shit that escalated quickly! “Baba, I know that’s way too much freedom, and I am so thankful for it. I assure you, times have changed and a female driver isn’t a bad thing. It shows strength, and stuff.”

 

“And stuff? What stuff?”

 

“Well, you know, I’ll be capable of driving my six children to school and back. You know! Stuff!”

 

He smiled. “You never fail to make me smile, Monkey!” Monkey? That’s new. “I will think more about this problem you have, and will tell you my decision when I have one.”

 

Problem I have? That’s rich. Don’t get my license and it’ll be a problem YOU have. “Thank you, Baba! That’s all I wanted from you!”

 

Freedom is Slavery.

 

The silver gleamed brightly against the light of my room as he held the keys in front of my eager eyes. “You want them?” He asked, knowing the answer. I nodded my head, but kept my mouth shut in fear of saying something that might change his mind. I was scared that even an uneven breath would trigger something that would make him pull away the keys. “You have never disobeyed me before, this should not encourage you to start disobeying me now.” Nod. “This car is a privilege and not a right.” Nod. “You may drive, but under a few circumstances.” Pause. Nod.

 

“The circumstances are as follows, the sun goes down, your car must be already in the garage.”

 

Fair enough, better than not driving at all. There were plenty of fun places to go in the morning and afternoon anyways.

 

“I will have your car shaded to the maximum legal shade so that you will not attract the attention.”

 

I wanted to drive to places and back, I never thought of driving as a way to seek attention. But now that I think about it, it’s the perfect opportunity to check out what all the fuss ‘gizzing’ is about!

 

“No, and I mean absolutely no, music while driving. It will distract you and will summon the devil. There are enough devils already out there driving around, you do not need one in the car!”

 

Now that’s just pathetic. But, whatever.

 

“You are only allowed to look ahead of you, if you really need to look at your side view mirrors, you have exactly half a second to do so, there might be a boy next to you who will assume you are staring at him.”

 

And I swear to God he actually shivered towards the end of that sentence.

 

“Does that sound fair to you?”

 

Nod.

 

Obviously I wasn’t going to complain, I’ve been waiting for this moment for three years. I was not going to ruin it for myself now.

 

“Ah yes, and one last thing. I hired a new nanny who will be your driving companion. You are not allowed to go anywhere without her. If you are in your classes she will wait outside for you. I will be calling her every hour to make sure you are near her and safe.”

 

My eyes widened for about a nanosecond, but I quickly inhaled and forced a smile on my face. “Of course Baba, anything you say Baba.” I could probably pay this ‘driving companion’ to go off somewhere and leave me be. How embarrassing would it be walking around at my age in university with a nanny at my foot.

 

“Good girl, now take these keys and be very careful.” He carefully lowered the keys into my now sweaty palms, smiled at me confidently, and walked out of my room. I finally exhaled and sat on my bed, my eyes glued to the beautiful key to freedom at last. Of at least the closest to freedom I’ll ever have.

 

Ignorance is Strength.

 

It’s been a few months since Shurooq started driving, she followed all the rules religiously and everything was going according to plan. She managed to gain her father’s trust and confidence, while proving to him that driving did not change her life as drastically as he had expected. If anything, it has made his life easier by not having to waste his time driving me back and forth. Tonight, everything was going to change. She mentally prepared for the worst, but expected the best. I’m going to take this risk.  Instead of having to explain to explain to her father that it is her friend Sarah’s birthday party, she is just going to throw a few white lies his way. A mixed birthday party. All she had to do was convince her dad that she had to go to a tutoring session at university and that would buy her about two hours of freedom past sunset. More than enough to dance with a handsome stranger. She saved up quite a bit of cash to pay off her driving companion, dropping Marie off at the souq on the way to the party. Flawless plan! Nothing can go wrong.

 

Abu Osman was watching the season finale of Arabs Got Talent as he rocked back and forth in disbelief that his favorite person on the show just got voted out. Arab’s Got Talent was his one and only guilty pleasure and he invested a lot of time and energy rooting for the contestants.

 

“Babaaaaaaaa,” Shurooq innocently smiled at her dad with her eyes wide open. “I’m going to be a little late at university today, don’t forget!” He brushed her off as he motioned for her to be quiet. She took this as a good sign and tip toed out of the house, Marie, her nanny was already waiting for her in the car with the engine running.

 

“Marie, don’t forget! Keep watching your phone in case anything happens. If Baba calls- don’t answer the phone and call me as soon as he hangs up and I will pick you up. I will only be gone for two hours so be at the door waiting for me at exactly 8pm. OK??”

 

Everything went smoothly for Shurooq that night, she met a handsome stranger named Qutaiba who turned out to be a terrible dancer, but she couldn’t care less because at that moment in her life she knew that she could do whatever she wanted, and her family’s ignorance would be her bliss.

 

“But Daddy I Love Him” by Quamer Al-Mumin

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When will they finally realize it? I’m no longer their baby girl. I’ve fallen, scraped my knee and have gotten back up so many times that I’ve lost count. So many times that I’ve formed a shell. So many times that they don’t even know about.

When will they finally realize it? I’m no longer that gullible youngster that used to give trust to those who least deserved it. I’ve learned to adjust to this cruel world. I. Can. Take. Care. Of. Myself.

When will they finally realize it? That I’ve changed. That his eyes have changed me. So unbelievably hazel, they plead me to stay. I tried to leave, daddy, I swear. But the way he’d hold on to me so tight. Like each time I   turn away would be the last.

He’d lay his head on my chest, breathing in my scent like it was the smell of morning dew. Our Eskimo kisses. Ever so light, ever so innocent.

Because that’s what we have daddy, it’s more than love. It’s not just him who needs me, that feeling is mutual to the both of us. He’s always on my mind. In my thoughts. In my prayers. I’ve learned responsibility the hard way, I promise. You can’t take away the only thing that gives me light, through the tunnel of sorrow that we call life. I know you think I’ve crossed the line, but daddy I love him! Can we keep him?

Smoke by Quamer Al-Mumin

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I looked through the bars of his cage as he paced back and forth. His feet echoed like drums against the metal floor. No matter which direction he paced, his eyes were locked on mine. Those deep yellow eyes held a look of determination. His upper lip twitched showing off his sharp canines. The stripes in his fur were drawn on with such elegance, he put Picasso to shame. As I watched him pace, I took out a cigarette and held it to my slightly parted lips. As I did so, I sat on the floor in front of his cage. I looked down at the pocket of my grey hoodie and dug for my lighter. I raised the lighter up to my cig and realized that he had stopped pacing and was now sitting across from me. I paused, cigarette hanging from my mouth, lighter in place, hand over the lighter to block out the wind, my eyes glued to his. His eyes then fell to my cancer stick, nostrils flaring. So I took it out of my mouth and placed it into his from between the bars. I held the lighter up for him and he leaned in holding the tip of the cigarette above the flame. And that day I had shared a much needed smoke with a Siberian Tiger.

Glass by Quamar Al-Mumin

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By Quamar Al Mumin

I remember holding my napkin just a little too tight. I leaned to the side and whispered in your ear, “Am I doing the right thing?” Giving me a sad smile, you replied with the question, “Do you?” and then you tapped your glass lightly on mine, held it up, held your glance on my eyes and sipped. I gulped, dry mouth, shaking fingers, a light pout.

You then turned away to face the guests, a sea of pastel fabrics and suits. The clicking of cutlery, sly murmurs and giggles filled the air. The temperature was heating up, beads of sweat made their way down my back. I tugged lightly at my pearl necklace, was it getting tighter? The room seemed to be shrinking as well.

Suddenly I was very aware of the ring on my left hand. As my eyes glazed over to it, it turned into a chain. I blinked rapidly, and with every blink the chain grew, gliding up my arm. I turned to you and tried to speak, but no words would come out. The chain wrapped itself around my neck, and slowly began to tighten. But when I grabbed desperately at it, a chain it was no longer. It felt like scales, cold, leathery scales. A hissing sound began in my right ear. I covered it with the palm of my hand, but the hissing grew louder.

I opened my mouth, eyes wide, darting back and forth, but I couldn’t get my vocal cords to cooperate. The people around me continued to converse, giggles turned into hysterical laugher. Thunder erupted when a fork fell to the floor. Helpless, my eyes shot straight to the glass in front of me and without thinking, I grabbed it, broke it on the table and swung it at my neck. I heard a lady scream and drew my eyebrows together in confusion. My head felt heavy, and as if not under my control it swung down on the table. All pain aside, it was surprisingly fascinating to watch the pattern of red bloom in contrast to the white table cloth.

Secret by Quamar Al-Mumin

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By Quamar Al Mumin

Come here and let me whisper in your ear, the same way that I used to. Compared to all my deepest secrets, you were an abyss. A secret that seemed to never end, and to be honest, I didn’t want it to end. Because having you as a secret made you mine. And it was nice, knowing that nobody knew but me and you.

But then, it grew heavy, too heavy for just the both of us to carry. You said it was a burden, I thought it gave us wings. You grew distant and with that you took my heart as well. My heart, my mind, my sanity and my secret left me to be with you.

I’d sit alone, in the dark, my face in my hands, my hands on my knees, my knees to my chest, the tears refusing to flow. They kept their own secrets; they didn’t want me to know. They’ve been coming up with a plan. A plan to meet the corners of my lips, but they didn’t want me to feel them. They didn’t want to leave my eyes like you did. They didn’t want to fade off of my lips, never to be returned like you did.

It weight became unbearable, with every day I can feel you forgetting me. I can feel the secret leaving you, running away from your forgetful mind and joining mine. My tears gave up on their hidden plan; they crawled helplessly down my cheeks. Traitors. How could they leave me as well? Do they not miss the warmth of my eyes? Or have my eyes gone cold..?

Slowly, little by little I decided I couldn’t keep it any longer. Forgive me, but I had to share it. I gave a little bit of it to my friends, who held it close to their hearts and offered guidance and support. I gave a lot of it to curious strangers, never to be spoken to again, and even travelers, who took our secret to far off lands. It was happier being spread out, it made new homes in the hearts and minds of others. It taught them lessons, never to make the mistake that we did.

The very last part of my secret left my eyes through tears that fell onto my mother’s lap. As she held me close she squeezed every last drop of it that I had left.

It was as if the air that entered my lungs had been filtered when the secret left me. Sweet, sensational freedom of my subconscious mind.

Socks by Quamar Al-Mumin

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By Quamar Al Mumin

It was the day before Christmas and the snow was still falling lightly onto the sidewalks. Little kids peer through the windows of the toy shops, wide eyed and excited for what they might get wrapped up under their tree tonight. Couples waltzing around in the streets, secretly predicting what their lover’s reaction will be to their sweet gifts. It seems like such a wonderful time of year. The shops and houses decorated with colorful lights, snow men freshly made, angels and mistletoes, reindeers and sleighs. The essence of miracles filled the air. But sitting alone, his knees held tightly to his chest was one man who couldn’t find a reason for this night to be any more special than the rest. If anything, this was his least favorite season of the year.

He shivered violently, his back against the wall sitting right where the lights stopped shining in the alley. ‘Just like the theatre.’ He thought, the audience would be hidden from view, while the actors played their parts under the bright light. The only difference was that the audience would come out of the dark and then their existence would be acknowledged. But this man, in the dark or not, was ignored, he would sometimes lift his hand to wealthy looking men in hopes of being given a dollar or two to get himself something to eat, but all he received was a dirty look. And the only people who would give him money would give it out of pity, or so that they would look generous in front of their friends.

Losing hope in the kindness of others, he decided he would stop asking people for help and instead live off of rummaging through the trash, collecting cans and selling them for cash.

He blew into his hands trying to warm them up, rubbed them against each other and then rapped his fingers around his bare blue-ish feet. His pinky toes were completely numb and the rest of this toes seemed to vibrate slightly. It was painful, but he was starting to get used to it. If he sat down he could just wrap his over coat around his legs from the front and tuck some of the material under his toes to keep warm.

He looks at his clock, two hours to midnight. Standing up and stretching his sore feet, he catches a glimpse of a man carrying a big cardboard box over his shoulder. The man carried the box towards the trash, placed it inside, and then walked away. He was like a cat, so curious, he walked over to the trash, not caring if it was death in that box. ‘Nothing to lose.’ He thought.

Reaching into the trash, his heart beat quickened. What if it was a box of food? Or maybe finally it was his turn for a Christmas miracle and that this box was full of money! Getting impatient he messily tore the box open, a big smile on his face.

Socks. This was one big cardboard box full of socks. Big socks, small socks, socks of different materials, socks of different colors, any kind of sock imaginable was in this box. He brushed his hand over the soft texture and sighed. Better than nothing, maybe he could sell them. But who would buy used socks? He grabbed the box, and carried it to his alley. He took out the thickest socks and put them over his feet and hands. Then he sat there and looked at his big box of used socks.

The socks couldn’t be sold and they were a terrible source of entertainment. Instead of dully looking at the socks, he decided to make a game out of them; he’d put all the socks of the same color in one pile and then separate them into sizes. He stood up and observed his organized mess of used socks. ‘What now?’

After a few minutes of poking at his socks he got an idea. He sat up and started putting all the red, green and white socks in a pile, then he took some gum out of his mouth and started sticking the socks to his alley’s walls. Creating a design of Christmas colored sock decorations. He even tied a few socks together so it would almost look like a star, and hung it as far up the street light as he could. When he was done, he stood back and smiled at his work. Though it was dark and gloomy at this time, in the morning his alley should look almost as good as any old decorated house. But one thing was missing, his stocking. So he chose the biggest sock of them all and hung it right in the middle of all his decorations. ‘My Christmas miracle, I guess.’ He thought with a crooked smile.

He gathered up the rest of the socks and made himself a pillow, then curled into a ball and fell asleep right under his stocking.

*Thump* Something heavy fell on his head. He jerked up and grabbed a sock for defense. Imagining how silly he must look, he lowered it and realized no one was near him. His eyes trailed slowly to the thing that had fallen on him and his eyes widened with disbelief. His stocking, was so heavy with whatever was inside it that is had fallen off the wall. He opened it to find it was stuffed with candy. *Thump* another sock fell, and then slowly the socks started falling off his wall and onto the ground. He looked into the one closest to him and saw that it was full of coins. The rest had dollars, toys and even letters. Some of them read, “Merry Christmas!” “Have a nice day!” “I loved your decorations.” “Such a beautiful sight!” His heart swelled with joy. It turned out his box of socks was just the beginning of his Christmas miracle.