Many questions revolve in my mind about the duality of dust and water, what can the desert provide for us and we cannot find in cities?

In the desert that extends deep into our history, our cities were and still embrace love with eternity, surrounding us from all angles, with their dunes spread like waves, and rare desert plants whose secrets are not known to others, this desert has the magical ability to attract people of different ages and genders, but how is it estimated We love the desert and we are the people of the sea?

Children master all the arts of change, inclusion, and forgetting the past, but their first memories are stuck in the depths of consciousness, knocking on the door on them and forcibly entering without permission, as if I could hear their ways now. My grandfather did not want to leave our old house that he built with his hands, moved to the new neighborhood, stubbornly resisted a child, clung to the past, clung to the windows of our wooden house, with the latch, and cried to the neighbors, asking for help, but they had left. After forty years, I still carry a lot of questions. Are our people themselves who changed? What happened to the simple people in my village, which sleeps on the sea?

• Want to know? Okay.

Al-Fareej homes were destroyed and buildings and towers were built in their place.

• What about the seashore?

• Convert to a port.

• Are our fishers and pearl divers?

Learn and change.

Does this mean that they have changed for the better?

• Depends from what angle do you see them?

How did they cede the sea?

• I told you: No comment.

I remember my grandfather justifying his unwillingness to go with us:

“I may sleep only when I hear the sound of a bird (criticism), as it screams at the sea.

I did not understand what he meant at the time, and he only mastered our beautiful local dialect and elegant vocabulary except our tribes, on this coast that started to gradually disappear with the departure of our young men and our old men.

I do not speak like my grandfather nor even like my mother, nor do I speak either like my older brother who tied my grandparents more than me. My vocabulary has changed and I am speaking in a somewhat modern and somewhat accent, with some of my original accent. The wisdom of change has produced a different generation with a contrasting tongue, with elegant local vocabulary no longer present. Whenever I heard a passing word of an elderly woman or a young woman turn, I would pick up the sound as if I was looking for something that I lost.

My family and my tribe have lived on this coast for hundreds of years. I wonder: How did we cede it and were satisfied with the desert? I do not know.

How we left him as part of our fabric, his water is our baptism, the roar of the wave was a melody of the universe, he became by laying down our favorite and special melody, we slept on his voice, we know him well when he gets angry and he knows us when we rejoice, he relieves his roar until we sleep, and we keep hearing and counting wave after wave Then a wave and slowly we close our eyes, and we wake up suddenly to make sure of his presence and hear him a second and third time, and we fall asleep in our world and sleep guard us, the feeling of safety when you sleep and know that the one who watches over your security is the sea .. to speak for a rest.

jamal.alshehhi@gmail.com

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Children master all the arts of change, inclusion, and forgetting the past, but their first memories are stuck in the depths of consciousness.