I finally got my father on the phone today- he has been inconsolable this past week, more like this past year. In between tears of despair and longing, I asked: ‘Baba, aren’t you happy you raised children who are all in for the resistance? I would be heartbroken if my children repeated the narratives of … Continue reading Baba
Arab
lim·bo
My father traveled the world for much of my childhood and for those brief moments he actually was home, the first thing he would do upon arrival from one exotic destination or another was lay out his clothes on the bed for my mother to wash, and then, a few days later, that same scene … Continue reading lim·bo
47 South
‘Why are you crying Mama, are you sad?’ she asks me with the kindest eyes I have ever known. Kinder than the many eyes staring at me under the guise of compassion on this crowded 47 bus going south on Lansdowne. ‘I’m not sad Mama... I just miss my parents, you know?’ I manage to … Continue reading 47 South
Sana'a Jaber سناء جابر 