Ahlam Mosteghanemi
@AhlamMostghanmi · Gulf & Arab world
Ahlam Mosteghanemi is an Algerian writer.
. . . May Gaza forgive us, wronged in its tears and blood, in its darkness, in its night and day, in its awaited loaf of bread, in an ambulance that does not arrive, in the hope that a crossing might open, nothing more; Gaza, which we loved when it no longer had eyes to see our love, nor electricity to witness our solidarity with it, and to which we sent aid when it no longer had hands except to bury its dead. May it forgive us, as it stands amid a procession of martyrs, because all we have for it are tears and shame. We will never be ourselves again. (... an excerpt from a text dating back to two decades of pain, "To Gaza, Almost Without Occasion" 22 \ 02 \ 2009.) #أحلام_مستغانمي
Translated from Arabic. . . Iraq, the heir to civilization, son of eternal history, creativity and refinement, still stands tall through its creators, generous in its emotional outpouring, loving all people of the pen and thought in the Arab world because it is related to them. Among the moving scenes is the memory of my photograph on the gate of the International Book Fair in beloved Baghdad, accompanied by the men of Algeria and the makers of its historical and intellectual glory, whom the book fair had previously honored with a distinguished presence at its entrance: Emir Abdelkader, founder of the Algerian state, and Malek Bennabi, founder of Algerian enlightened thought. Thank you to my people in Iraq and to Baghdad, which carries Algeria in its heart and memory. We love you, pride and glory of our Arab history. #معرض_بغداد_الدولي_للكتاب
Translated from ArabicI wished I could write you a book with a happy ending, but that would be a form of lying. We lie to the living for some reason, perhaps so that the truth will not hurt them, but what is the point of lying to the dead when they have entered a place where their pain has stopped? Besides, the Arab reader is not accustomed to seeing the writer happy. The writer’s happiness perplexes him, confuses his convictions, and shakes his belief that sadness is a collective fate. He wants heroes whose fates rival his own in misery. In the next book, perhaps, I will try to be less sorrowful—I mean, without a memory. Literature must be healed of memories in order to be happy. #أصبحتُ_أنت
Translated from ArabicDespite the pain, the bombardment, and deprivation, the children of Gaza sing from inside the tents, commemorating the noble birth anniversary of the Prophet Muhammad. #المولد_النبوي_الشريف
Translated from Arabic