The shoreline here is littered with the refuse of a village; or perhaps, villages- I don’t know how much of what is on the shore is washed up from other places, perhaps miles and miles away. Walking along, one reads the stories in a ripped net, an antibiotic bottle, a[…]
Day 18 of the blockade, Mujaahid called me this morning with an update- every time the phone rings and it’s him I thank Allaah that the phone system is still up and running. When I lived in the village and the fighting was going on the phones were off for[…]
Civil unrest. Political upheaval. Fuel shortages. Oppression and tyranny. War. These are the headlines I see when when I check my email, and they are enough to cause one to turn away from reading the news at all. I have read that there are actually many people today suffering from[…]
This morning we were sent the gift of rain. Month after month of dry, hot, humid weather, the sky an unforgiving blue so light it was almost white…and then this morning, rain. Khalil and I sat by by sea, watching the village fishing fleet heading out at sunrise, the sound[…]
Water is truly a lovely word. Within its two syllables one can hear the gurgling of a mountain stream as it tumbles over rocks sculpted by the water flowing over them, around them, turning each into a work of art. Water. It sounds as smooth and lovely as it feels[…]
