When I was 8 years old, my best friend became Jasmin. She would remain my best friend for a very long time. Her father was from Syria, from the town of Aleppo. His name was Abdhulla. He was homesick all the time. They would spend their summer vacations in Syria and once, Jasmin brought me a wooden little box for jewels. I gave this to one of my daughters not long ago. Jasmin gave it to me when I was 10 years old. We lost sight of each other many years ago, but she remained in my heart always. I know she broke with her parents. But tonight, I want to say: I think of her father Abdhulla who was always kind to me. My family was difficult and I could stay with them whenever I felt like. I will never forget him sitting on the sofa, letting the pearls run through his fingers, praying, thinking, meditating. I think of Syria!! For me, in my imagination, everybody there somehow looks like Abdhulla and it makes me sad to think, his entire family might by now be wiped out. I still believe: violence can never bring any kind of solution, ever.
Posted on: Tue, 27 Aug 2013 19:32:47 +0000
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