This was thought up on December 23, 2015. Also, there is little to no accurate punctuation. My condolences go out to the English language in these next few posts.
“i have good news today–finally i guess. i’m starting to feel really comfortable here, like with my home and everything in it.”
“i’m starting to feel a sort of familiarity. i don’t fantasize about living in a nice big house with a new family anymore because i’m starting to feel so satisfied with the cozy little one i have now.
i’m starting to love the noise and the people; really warming up to the ‘anything works if you make it’ ideology too. you know, can i tell you what the turning point for all that was?”
“yes, tell me.”
“so my sister went to her rich friend’s house a few days ago. seriously when i say rich i mean like, they are loaded.and our driver, who’s become like our second father (honestly we love him), he picked us up from our schools and we went to get her on the way.
obviously we got lost, probably because it was ‘rich people town’, and we’d ask random people on the streets who were of the regular egyptians, i’d say, like not rich or anything. actually, most were below what i’d call the middle class — and it felt so oddly unifying when no one knew where this forsaken compound of hers was. it kind of made the invisible line between the rich and poor so visible and clear.
i didn’t think of myself as poor, but i know that i didn’t categorize myself with the rich. and i always had before that night.
anyways when we made it into the compound, obviously the first place i compared it to was aramco. and i immediately felt so excessively blessed, because there was no comparison — the compound was an adorned crap-hole, too forlorn to be classified as a homey ‘secured’ place for me.
anyways, when we called the friend’s dad to find the way, the dad was honestly the biggest ass. he was such a pompous, arrogant ass that spoke to us as if we worked for him or something.
so, that coupled with the haunted environment for me sort of stabilized the idea of home being far away from the rich. it was really in that instant that i thought of our apartment and of my mother sitting at home with ismail watching tv and drinking tea. i thought of my siblings and i walking in and thanking her for the food she would have made with care (making sure it suited sara’s taste buds, included no fish or cheese for ibrahim, and was similar to spaghetti somehow for asmaa–i ate everything though so everything she made for me was sufficient for salivation).
i also immediately thought of our neighborhood and how just outside the apartment complex the egyptian city of noise stood with its terrible traffic, eccentric boutiques and shops that literally had anything we could ever need —
and it was in that instant that the circuits in my mind responsible for home travelled into my heart, and i felt home again.”
“and keep in mind that i haven’t felt home since udhailiyah! in my dreams, the first familiar place my mind travels to is always my house there, even til this day. so this was like the giant gap in my heart was being colored in with a good quality marker.
maybe after all this i’ll finally start dreaming of a different place.”