When the Ticker Accelerates in Its Rotation
In my article “The Last Five Years of Life,” published about a month ago, I wrote: Having turned eighty, I decided to withdraw for a few days. I went to my “cottage,” sat in my favorite chair, and let my gaze and thoughts wander over the blue sea waters and the gentle rays of the setting sun reflected softly on the water’s surface. Unconsciously, I began to replay the film of my memories—childhood, youth, adolescence, young adulthood, my time as an employee, and my mature years—up to the moment I reached middle age, and then the rapid entry into full adulthood. I recalled all that those stages entailed: happiness and sorrow, laughter and tears, wishes and thoughts, fluctuations and changes, marriage and parenthood, joy at the birth of grandchildren, and a vast array of other events, apart from the months of invasion and occupation, and the preceding emigration to America, followed by a return, and then emigration to Britain, which lasted no more than a few years, before we returned to our homeland. This was just days before Saddam’s thugs invaded. I witnessed the mischief of his men, whom he called “ashaws” (thugs), their corruption and destruction, and their relentless efforts, often under high orders, to turn Kuwait into ruins, after their leader—the “Leader of the Nation” and “Man of Necessity”—had failed to make any part of his country resemble Kuwait!
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I was surprised by the volume of comments and the truth they contained. One was from the poet Hamoud Al-Bagheeli, who sent the following verses:
When one heart inclines, all hearts incline,
And what is in the hearts is love.
The ages were upon the two masters like a dark night,
Above a luminous full moon.
The virgins boast of their beauty,
And poetry enchants them, folding over them.
When I could not attain her, I said: Time melts iron when it bends.
I was once strong-armed, supporting the weary with patience.
Time turned upon my shoulders,
And I became like a wolf whose strength has faded.
Remember the spirit of youth! When ‘Awī felt his weakness,
He tried to rise, but his strength failed him.
When he mastered his companions, he said: Farewell to a life swallowed by loss.
Farewell to the one who was my refuge.
Farewell to the light that illuminated life.
When darkness overtook him, he withdrew.
Farewell to the one who was the spirit of beauty,
Who fled the crowd after being burned.
Farewell to the one who tempted separation.
When nostalgia struck him, he was bewitched.
How many companions have passed and perished!
How many friends have vanished and turned to dust.
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In response to the desire of the majority of these readers, I return to add something to that article, which touched certain feelings in their hearts and souls. With advancing age, I have become less hasty than before, even though logic dictates that I should double what I do in the remaining years of my life, making each year feel like two or three. But I have discovered that the time left to me deserves to be enjoyed in every moment, and this cannot be achieved through haste. The rich morsel that I, or others, labored to prepare deserves a longer time to chew and savor its taste. A novel deserves careful attention to its lines and between its lines, and rereading its beautiful passages. I should spend more time gazing at a beautiful rose, a captivating girl, an eternal painting, or an immortal tree. I should enjoy, more slowly, the presence, companionship, and conversation with those I love. I should take the time to travel, within and outside the country, to see a grandchild or a friend.
I have discovered that I have become less concerned with appearances, even with what I once considered shameful. When prostate issues impose their demands, boundaries fall, origins vanish, and concern for what others will say ceases. If I do what they desire and wish, I will gain nothing from them in return. Why then should I consider their “delicate feelings” at the expense of my health? I have given up many things, but I refuse to give up what has always distinguished me from others, even if it is unacceptable. I will not stop offering non-hurtful sarcasm or speaking frankly. I no longer have time to indulge those who do not wish to understand, or those who believe their doctrines are superior, their ideas more correct, and their stances more worthy of imitation.
Nor do I wish to abandon my mischief. I still visit my mother, who is bedridden, unable to speak, and I dance before her. I see her furrowed brow relax into a serene smile, and she places her hand gently on mine, patting it with fingers that have lost all strength over time. I will not wait for death with a frown, as long as the sun will rise with my presence and absence, and there will be a moon in the sky in the evening, with lovers singing of its beauty and the brilliance of its light. I will follow the saying of the wonderful American actress Meryl Streep: “I will never allow anyone to remove the wrinkles on my forehead; they are the result of my amazement at the beauty of life.” Nor will I accept the removal of the wrinkles around my mouth, for they show how much I have laughed and how much I have kissed those I love.
Whatever happens, I will not surrender. I will keep my imagination alive, fight boredom by doing what I love and meeting those I love, and indulge my little whims as long as I live, to keep my heart beating at its peak—even if it is the last of them.
Ahmed Al-Sarraf
