Two Little Girls
Incident #1
Yesterday I was having a conversation with my room-mates. We were discussing children, bringing them up, and the rest of the ups and downs of motherhood. I remember telling my room-mates something like, for me, the big attraction in bringing up children is that I know I'll have a mind and body to mould right there in front of me. The teaching process is important to me here, and the high of motherhood (or teaching) will come, say, twenty-five years later when I see my children grow up into responsible, mature and intelligent, well-informed adults, because of my upbringing. It's like moulding a piece of clay and seeing a well-shaped pot as the result (or a well-done clay workdesk... look at the picture).
Incident #2
I've embarked upon an anthology of poetry. It's called The Poetry of Arab Women: A Contemporary Anthology, edited by Nathalie Handal (Interlink Books, 2001). This poem has been written by Fawziyya Abu-Khalid (originally from Riyadh, Saudi Arabia), translated by Farouk Mustafa, and is called Two Little Girls. [N.B. Reproduced exactly as I read it in the book.]
I hang on to the hem of her dress like a child hanging
on to the string of an immovable kite
I climb her braid like a squirrel climbing a hazelnut tree
In the late afternoons we jump from one world to another
we play in the wind
like sparrows that opened the door to the cage
We move from game to game
She teaches me the names of the flowers
the seasons of the rain
the love of the homeland
and I teach her obstinacy and mischief
We share one apple and innumerable dreams
We paint a paradise of questions on the face of the desert
We spray each other with the water of the mirage
accompany a fleeing doe
Sunset surprises us in the thick of dusk
Who can solve the riddle:
which is the mother,
which the daughter?
The Result
I stand corrected. I've selected teaching as a profession, and to all the kids out there that I will one day teach, I intend to learn as much from you as I know you will learn from me.
Yesterday I was having a conversation with my room-mates. We were discussing children, bringing them up, and the rest of the ups and downs of motherhood. I remember telling my room-mates something like, for me, the big attraction in bringing up children is that I know I'll have a mind and body to mould right there in front of me. The teaching process is important to me here, and the high of motherhood (or teaching) will come, say, twenty-five years later when I see my children grow up into responsible, mature and intelligent, well-informed adults, because of my upbringing. It's like moulding a piece of clay and seeing a well-shaped pot as the result (or a well-done clay workdesk... look at the picture).
Incident #2
I've embarked upon an anthology of poetry. It's called The Poetry of Arab Women: A Contemporary Anthology, edited by Nathalie Handal (Interlink Books, 2001). This poem has been written by Fawziyya Abu-Khalid (originally from Riyadh, Saudi Arabia), translated by Farouk Mustafa, and is called Two Little Girls. [N.B. Reproduced exactly as I read it in the book.]
I hang on to the hem of her dress like a child hanging
on to the string of an immovable kite
I climb her braid like a squirrel climbing a hazelnut tree
In the late afternoons we jump from one world to another
we play in the wind
like sparrows that opened the door to the cage
We move from game to game
She teaches me the names of the flowers
the seasons of the rain
the love of the homeland
and I teach her obstinacy and mischief
We share one apple and innumerable dreams
We paint a paradise of questions on the face of the desert
We spray each other with the water of the mirage
accompany a fleeing doe
Sunset surprises us in the thick of dusk
Who can solve the riddle:
which is the mother,
which the daughter?
The Result
I stand corrected. I've selected teaching as a profession, and to all the kids out there that I will one day teach, I intend to learn as much from you as I know you will learn from me.
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