Articles Comments

» Arab lit and art, Articles, English » The poster was still there / Remah Jaber

The poster was still there / Remah Jaber

Share on FacebookTweet about this on TwitterShare on TumblrEmail this to someoneShare on LinkedInShare on Reddit



My Name is Remah, I am 10 years old, I am very clever at school, I can do my homework very fast. I eat lunch with my parents, after that I play, I play, I play, until its very dark.
Our house is not that big, but it’s nice and warm.
Every day my sweet father holds my hand and walks me to school, where he leaves me at the gate.
My friends at school tell me that my father is handsome, and by the way, I look like him.
One day I left school, he wasn’t there , I went home by myself.
My dad used to live with us but he suddenly moved to a separate room in the house that he never got out from.
I used to pass the back door so that I could see him before going to school. “As usual you forgot to zip up your bag ” he said.
Later on, my father moved to the neighbors’ house and he never got out from there. I used to pass by the neighbors each time I went to school to take their daughter with me, and to see my father at the same time.
He looked at my boots , he said ” bravo, you can finally tie them”.
But I didn’t respond so that the neighbors daughter wouldn’t hear me and would then know that I did not pass by their place for her, but for him.
Then my father moved to another street farther away from our house, and I had to change my way to get to school to pass him by.
He walked with me all the way, and told me That he lied when he told me that all I needed to fly was a bunch of balloons.
But I didn’t respond at that moment he was pale and looked a bit strange.
One day I finished school and passed by the same street to see him but he wasn’t there anymore.
I went to the neighbors but they were not there.
I went to the room he used to stay in at our house but my mother had locked the door , and hid the key , She was cooking “Faqqus”, the dish that he used to like the most, I have to share it with him , then
I told my mother that today I looked everywhere but couldn’t find him.
She told me: ” GO, open the window in my room and you will see him”
I went to her room, I opened the window.
On a very high electricity pillar, the poster was still there with its beautiful colors as if it has just been hanged up.
My father smiled and said: Remah, Close the window dear, I am dead.

 

Remah Jaber: Palestinian poet and playwright

Filed under: Arab lit and art, Articles, English

اترك تعليقاً

*