I wrote yesterday :)

Today I started a strange and new activity: Learning a new language; Spanish. It was a very nice and great experience that I hope will end brightly.
It was very paradoxical when we were repeating the alphabet after our tutor, a, b, c, ch, etc...
Rebrought me to the fact that people are always learning throughout their lives. Never should we stop learning new things till our very end.
THE END

Oh, since we're saying END, yesterday (Sunday) ended mmmmm.. did not end as well as we wished it would. We had our Iftar - Evening meal (since in the Holy month of Ramadan Muslims fast from dawn till sunset) and before we left the dining table Zizu started growing strange stuff on her hands. And soon the strange pimples spread all over her body.

At first Ummi (her mom) and I tried to house-treat those small creatures with some traditional cure. But after two hours things started to get really..... red!
There we were on our way to the ER at eleven before midnight. It seemed more like eleven a.m. since more than half the people in Qatar were on the streets.
Anyway, after an adventure to the ER the strange creatures disappeared as suddenly as hey appeared.

Since I arrived to Qatar less than one year ago, I have been to the ER more frequently than I had been to the ER before throughout my whole life. It was never that I am the patient though, thank God.
I hate the ER. I hate hospitals.
I remember the beginning of a very good film, "Pi", it has a part where Max the main character says, "When I was young my Mom told me never to look at the sun, so once when I was six I did."

When I, Niam, was six my Mom and I went to the American University Hospital in beirut to check on a weird creature in my body, then.
Since in 1986-87 Lebanon was in war, there were victims being brought to AUH around the clock. So basically mommy told me not to look at those "scenes". But I did. And since then whenever I enter a hospital for any reason, or smell the doctor's smell (there is a doctor smell I think) my state changes.. physically and psychologically. But more psychologically. I see again and again the same image that I saw when I was six. A man who was probably dead, because half of his head was full of blood and deformed, and his hand was tied or clinched to a metallic thing on the medical carrier which passed quickly past us. He always passes by me at all hospitals. Even here in Qatar he passes by. As if he is saying hello. He reminds me of the worst thing I can't forget. War.
And he reminds me of war atrocities. And I start wondering where is he now? was he dead when I saw him? Probably. But I think not coz his hand was a little bit upwards. Why would they bother his hand if he were dead?? If he is alive how does he look like? Is he fully healthy again? Is he poor or rich? Is he married? Did his parents lose him and he lives now alone? Millions and Millions of questions.

CUT
THE END

FADE FROM BLACK
I just opened the LAU website (www.lau.edu.lb) and found on the main page a picture of our Gulbenkian Theater with students in it. I think students in the Play Production Class with Dr. Mona Knio. I am still a very traditional and old fashioned person when it comes to teachers. I absolutely can be a living application for the arabic idiom that means, "I am the slave of whoever taught me one letter of the alphabet"(Man allamani harfan surtu lahu abdan). I so much admire all the people who teach, and hate whoever speaks bad of teachers. I think teachers are the most sacred living people on Earth and the ones who should be most respected.

And before I stop writing to go to bed, I like to say that my Aunt is a teacher and I love her so much. Her name is Saadia. I wish everybody had an aunt like her.
When we were very young, I remember seeing her doing stuff around the house. Mostly changing the decor of my grandmother's living room, to be honest. She loves changing the decor. No matter how simple it is.

Soy Niam. Soy productora de peliculas y tambien estudiante de espanol.
Good night senores y senoras!