Author: ayah (Page 6 of 7)

          Ana Behibak. The phrase that is not used often in my house, but was used often with my sidi (grandpa in arabic). Ana Behabik translated to English as ‘I love you.’ Although it may be unusual that it wasn’t said in my house very often as others may say it daily, my sidi never failed to say it all the time. My sidi was a very special person who loved all fourty of his grandchildren equally. He would stay at my house at most times which made me happy of course. My siblings and parents enjoyed his stay at our house. 

        Everyday he would tell me and my siblings he loved us in Arabic. “Ana Behibak Ayah…Ana Behibak…” That was his way of showing love and affection. Saying those words was his love language towards all of his grandchildren. I would say it back of course too. So yes, that phrase was special.

       There is one memory where the phrase ‘Ana Behibak’ was used by my sidi that I’ll never forget. It is a moment that is cherished and deeply appreciative of since it has really shared mutual love between my cousins and I. I even have a picture of it that I look back to. It was during the summer time at a park, nighttime and breezy since we were close to the water. There was lots of grass too and the air was just fresh after the light smell of rain. It was behind a BJs but our family marked it as a place to have food gatherings here and there depending on the occasion. There was a family gathering. The tables were filled with food. There were little kids riding their scooters. The uncles and aunts all having conversations in every corner. Then there were cousins and I that chilled at an empty table. 

       The reason for the family gathering was because my sidi and his wife were leaving back to Palestine. Therefore my dad and his brothers wanted to throw one last family gathering where we can all spend some cherishable memories before he had left back.

       It was a few moments later where my cousins and I decided to walk up to my sidi who was sitting on the bench and just hanging with him. Surprisingly he had a pen in his pocket. It was a black pen that had gold on the clip and cap. He had many of those pens and had left most in whichever of his son’s house he stayed at. There were two left in my dad’s house. One of them I got to keep, which I see as a special pen. I don’t even use the pen for writing but more as a part of him since it’s a reminder of that special moment that was shared at the park.

       Back to topic now, yes he had a pen. My cousins and I wanted him to write on our hands which he did, but we didn’t tell him what. We had all widened our palms as he took turns writing on each one of our hands. On each of our hands he wrote ‘Ana Behibak’ in Arabic letters with a tiny heart. That moment was unforgettable. We each hugged our sidi and then proceeded to all stand in a circle where we took pictures of our hands. The flashes that went in and out after each picture taken signified this moment that brought love. The last few moments after that memory was a bit blurry but I remember it being all laughs and happiness.

     Unfortunately when my sidi was back in Palestine, he passed away two years later…the year 2020. I found out during my chemistry class while I was taking a quiz which I had ended up failing miserably due to the news. My family and I had met with our other family members to grieve his death, and it was a dark time. My cousins and I would share memories of him though that made us miss him terribly. And then we talked about that one time he wrote on each one of our hands with love. As sad as we were, we knew our sidi would want us to still smile. We all walked to carvel later that night to get ice cream and just cheer up while still sharing memories of our sidi.That day went from sadness to laughter. We sat at the playground of this Church just eating our ice cream. 

    Ana Behibak became a more meaningful thing than it was before my grandpa passed away. It taught me to always tell the ones I love that I love them. It is used at my house more commonly now and I always make sure to tell my family and friends that I love them the same way my sidi has. My cousins and I still hold the pictures we had taken of our hands as a small but extremely cherishable memory. I will still continue to tell my loved ones that I love them just as a legacy I see that my sidi left behind.

Everyone is a part of one or more community. It’s what makes many communities when people unite together under a certain category. I feel like communities is what makes you the person you are. It tells a lot about you. Like reading ‘HERS’ by Klass, I saw how the author considered herself to be a part of the medical community. She had learned a lot from picking up the patterns of speech and grammatical expressions. For Klass working in the field has taught her a lot especially picking up expressions. It allowed her to understand what other doctors had meant and also the try excitement of being a doctor.

For me, I feel that I am a part of many communities. For starters, I am a part of the Arab community. I used to live in a neighborhood called Bay Ridge that majority of Arabs have resided in. Even though I don’t live there, it is still a part of my identity because it is my ethnicity. I still practice my culture and tradition which makes me a part of the Arab community. I would say I’m also a part of the cooking and baking community since I have so much joy for it. A hobby is still considered a community when many others share it as well. I feel that those two make me who I am since I spend a lot of time doing it. I am also a part of the fitness community. I am in a group of people who workout as well and share fitness tips, progress, and their goals. Being a part of that community is what makes me happy because I love to workout and stay fit. It’s more enjoyable when you can relate with others and talk about your fitness goals and share it. Overall, there are many communities I am a part of but those are my main ones.

Reading one chapter “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao”, the word ‘fuku’ is used a lot. The author brings it up so much to the point that it means “a curse or a doom of some kind.” Despite knowing fuku has something to do with darkness, I’m confused about what points the author is trying to make. I saw that he made a comparison to superstitions which is believing in supernatural beings. This means spirits unleashing evil into the world causing problems for people. I feel that the author was trying to bring more recognition about how fuku is real and how many other cultures believe in it. Fuku is a strong belief by Dominicans which means bad luck. The author mentioned how many ethnic people like Haitians and Puerto Ricans have similar beliefs to it as well. Being an Arab myself,  I can relate on some aspects of Fuku. Misfortune to us is caused by super-naturals called Jinns. That is besides the point though.

I am still confused about why the author believes Fuku is caused by the aftermath of slavery. Why does he think it has to do with that? Couldn’t it just be because of the principles of life? Can’t it be that karma is just a real thing? His beliefs for Fuku is extremely strong which I do understand. I do believe that misfortune is caused by the super-natural especially it is a part of religious beliefs too. Everyone does have a story or more of misfortune caused by superstitions.