#انقذو_المدينة_القديمة

يا ليت العالم يأخذ نبذة 

عن الجميلة: مدينتي القديمة 

يا ليت العالم يتأمل في آثارها التي لا زالت ثابتة هنا 

و كأنها تروي قصةُ ما كان عليه أجدادنا 

يا ليت العالم يأتي و يزور أرضنا الحبيبة 

يتمتع بجمال كل من نالوت و يفرن و لبدة. 

20

 I can now say:
 I've been, for almost two decades, existing 

 I've accomplished some dreams and others I'm still listing!

 I'm learning lots and lots;

 Continuously connecting the dots.

 I get sad.

 I get mad.

 And I cry .

 But I also learnt to smile and to laugh 

 Because at any moment I can die.

 I love it when I'm utmost connected to Allah! 

 I try and yearn to get close to him 

 Sometimes, because I'm human, I sin 

 And I despise myself when I'm astray 

 So I bow and prostrate: I pray 

Maybe I'll have two more decades of existing 

Maybe I'll have more 

Maybe I'll have less

But that's not something that I obsess 

About anymore 

I have an afterlife to look for 

So I hope my time of return is when I'm at my best

So in my grave, I can finally rest!

Happiness

    
 I've been contemplating the inexplicable abstract of happiness. After lots of pondering, prayers, and emotional writing, I've come to only one conclusion.
     Happiness is an illusion that you have to create in order for it to be a reality. You can be happy for any reason; you don't have to justify it. It's soooooooo much easier to complain and whine. It's so easy to cry and give in. It's very easy to quit and surrender! But if you just push back, fake a smile, and believe that there is SO MUCH good in the world, it'll come rushing to you when you least expect it.
     Moreover, the phrase, "In through one ear and out the other" is the least realistic proverb I've come to know. Because words come through both ears and diffuse to your brain and heart and will consequently affect all your other organs. So what you gotta do is suppress those negative remarks with positive ones. It doesn't matter where you can get them from as long as you make them flutter around within you! So be happy and smile and rejoice and believe in yourself. Know that Allah will mend your broken heart. He will grant you better things. He is there to protect you wherever you may be. So smile like a kid in a candy store, and I assure you: you'll find happiness. 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

الأمل

" وَ لا تَهِنُوا وَلَا تَحْزَنُوا وَأَنتُمُ الْأَعْلَوْنَ إِن كُنتُم مُّؤْمِنِينَ " - آل عمران "

!أية من الله. أمر رباني. إذا تمعنت فيه لاهتزت ما فيك من مشاعر. 

عندما يأمر الله عباده بشئ ما فمن اليقين أنه أعلم بالخير الذي سيجلبه هذا الإرشاد و عن الشر الذي سيبعده أبعد المسافات.
رب رحيم و غفور و ودود. يريد أن يرحم و يغفر و يرزقنا بالمودة. و ما علينا إلا إتباع
ما يخبرنا به في قرآنه الكريم
فكيف لنا أن نحزن و هناك دعاء يغير الأقدار؟ كيف لنا أن لا نفرح و نبتسم و هناك آيات الله لا نكاد خفيانها؟
كيف للإنسان أن يستمر في السمع لوسوسة الشيطان و هناك أذكار ترطب اللسان و تمحو الذنوب؟
إن لم يكن الرؤوف يريد لنا الهناء و السكينة، لما جعل لنا الاستغفار و صلوات النوافل لكي نقترب إلى رحمته التي وسعت كل شئ؟
الحزن و الكئابة مشاعر قد يقع الإنسان في الإدمان عليها. لهذا عليك ان تتخطاها عندما تأتي و تجنبها كل ما قدرت. توكل على المهيمن في كل شئ و ظن به الخير و ستجده في كل حين و آن بإذنه. و إن لم تجد سعادتك في الدنيا فعليك التمسك بالدعاء أن يرزقك الله إياها في الآخرة الباقية.
---نهى ددش---

Sara

     Sara. A common name throughout the world. I've met many awesome Sara's and who's, but there's one special Sara that's very dear to my heart. Her name is Sara Nabeel Ali ❤ This is the story of how I met her and how we became the ultimate soul-sisters.
     At the end of eighth grade, we moved houses. And because we moved to Lanson Avenue, that meant that I had to go to Edsel Ford and not Fordson, which was the high school all my middle school friends were going to. I was devastated. I spent the entire summer crying my heart out and begging my parents to let me go to Fordson like the other two guys on my street, but I was destined to go to Edsel! My first day was probably the most horrible day ever. I was sick and my voice was practically gone. All the ninth graders were new, but I was the new-new girl! My first hour was gym class, and I didn't know where the gym was because I didn't go to the orientation. I found this Link Crew Leader, a senior, that was sweet enough to take a look at my schedule and show me where I needed to go. Anyways, I sat all the way at the end of the bleachers, and to my left I saw this pretty girl. I don't know why, but the way she was talking and smiling caught my attention. Ms.Terry called out my name for attendance and I kept saying, "Here!" A few girls finally heard me and told her that I wasn't absent after all! That pretty girl was Sara. 

     I don't remember how and when we actually started talking, but I remember how we used to walk around the gym and she'd tell me a story about her cousins ,Kylie and Kevin. And I started anticipating gym class everyday because I wanted to know the end of the story- only to realize that she didn't have cousins named Kylie and Kevin only to find out that was only a story out of her wild imagination. I remember it was a very captivating story. She told me, because she felt guilty, " I just told you that so we could have something to talk about and be friends!" And then, we started talking about everything and anything! I started to think that Edsel wasn't so bad after all. We made friends, some realllllly awesome friends in the meanwhile, but we were always together. It got to the point where people started thinking we were twins. Not sisters, but identical twins. 💝 We always laughed at such remarks and replied with " We're from different continents!!!" She's 75% Yemeni and what's left of the percentage is Native American.
I got to know her bit by bit! And I really started to know who she was after she was absent from school for a day or two! I remember asking the girls in my class about her! And my friend Esra answers, "Oh, you didn't hear?" And I knew it wasn't gonna be good news! "What happened?" "Her father passed away yesterday!" And my heart sank and broke. I was devastated! I remember just being shell shocked and wondering what she was going through. She's a strong girl, I'll tell you that. She came the following day to school because she cared about her attendance record and she knew better than to skip school, and many other reasons that make her up to the unique individual she is! I didn't know what to say. I just looked at her and she was so sad. Terrified of her new world. I wanted to cry, but I didn't want her to so I just held my tears in and tried my best to comfort her. She was holding back a river of tears. I remember her eyes vividly and I wish she never had to go through that. My dear Sara stayed strong. She kept coming to school, and one day she worked up the courage to tell me in explicit detail about the death of her beloved father. I tried my best to be there for her. I really did. And I hope I did that. During her time of mourning, we developed a strong bond. She would listen to every word I had to say, and I would do the same for her. It was so effortless doing that! I know that she's my best friend because every time we'd go out to the track in gym class, and I would tell her " Look Sara, my eyes look better in the sun! " and she'd reply every time with a, "Yes they do!" She never told me to stop saying that. 

     As the year went by, we made memories that are forever engraved in my memory. I remember when Ms.Prieur told us to narrate a song in the form of a poem, and she did the best presentation. Sara performed Adele's "Turning Tables" so dramatically, I was so impressed, as I'm sure the rest of the class was too! I think my favorite memory was when we got out of Ms.Prieur's class and giggling while saying " Do you bite your thumb at me sir?" "No, sir!" "Do you quarrel sir?" "No, sir!" We realized then that I had a horrible British accent. Sara says it sounds like a "dying hyena!" And another memory of Ms.Prieur's class was when we finished reading Romeo and Juliet and Sara sewed her very own princess's dress for the Renaissance'a festival, and impressed us all! She looked like true princess. Better than Juliet could've ever looked. That day Sara came on my bus and we went home together. My mom was in awe at how much alike we truly looked. She gasped and said, " subhana Allah!!" 

     And there are so many more memories that morphed me into the person I am today.
Sophomore year was more sentimental, because we both knew that I'd be heading back to Libya! And she promised that she'd make it the best year of my life. And it truly was. We didn't have any classes together, but always were together! I would come to school, head to my locker ,and then to Sara's locker, and go to the cafeteria together. We were probably the only two who were laughing so early in the morning. We would laugh and talk facing each other and when the five minute bell rings, she'd walk me to my first hour. We would see each other between the other hours and she would give me a note she wrote to me during class that said something funny, sweet, or totally unexpected. She'd come to my locker after fourth hour and we'd go to the cafeteria again for lunch. And we made so many memories, promises, and inside jokes during those 30 minutes. On Fridays, we'd stay after school to attend a lecture at the Islamic club, which we became devout members of because we were both interested in our beloved religion. The bus ride home was always the best, and I believe that's where I got my love for car rides.
Sara's so cute! She'd ask Mr.Cook, the best Chemistry teacher, if she could write " Hi Nuha! " or something of that sort on his unused chalkboard , and he'd let her because he's awesome! And I'd walk in my sixth hour to find my name written in big, bold letters on the board! And I'd write something back for her to see the next day 💜
The week before I came back to Libya, I had a goodbye party at Hemlock park! She showed up of course with my other besties, and she was the last to leave. We both cried. And she gave me a pack of letters; you see Sara didn't just make me one letter, but a whole bunch of them. And each of them had the title " Open when..." I still have them of course, along with the memory box she made me!
I have opened several of them. For example, the one that said, " Open when you tell someone that your eyes look better in the sun!" I laughed ( and I still laugh) the first time I opened it to find out that she wrote, " Seriously? You still tell people that! Well, they do!" And I'm waiting for the days when I'll open the others such as " Open when you're engaged." And I hope I never open the ones where she wrote things like, "Open when you get rich and forget about me!" 

     When I came to Libya, she encouraged me to write an article stating the differences between America and Libya. I decided to portray it by writing a comparison between my two high schools. She went ahead and convinced Mr.Rydzik, my Journalism and Newstaff teacher, to get it printed on one of The Bolt newspaper's editions! That was something I'll never forget. That I'd have my article printed on my high school's newspaper when I wasn't even going there anymore. That gave me so much positive energy that is inexplicable in words.

     She said she's making me a "Care-Package" that involves another set of "Open when letters!" I can't wait till I receive it.
We sill talk. Whenever we can. She knows my life here as if she's with me and I know hers. We send pictures and letters and videos! Love doesn't know what distance is. And we have been best friends although we haven't seen each other for five years!!! And I pray for her all the time. And I know she prays for me. I hope Allah blesses her beautiful soul. And I pray that we'd sit across a table again in our lifetime and chat just like good old times ❤❤😘

College Life in Libya ~ Part V

By Nuha Dadesh 

What is happiness, but an escape from everything that isn't!

"Who are you?" I mumbled. "It's me! Maram." "Who?" "Nuha?!" That conversation unofficially declared the start of yet another semester at my beloved department of Pharmacy. It was five in the morning then, and it wasn't my fault that I sounded like an oblivious weirdo because I wasn't expecting any calls just a few hours after I had gone to sleep. I groggily woke up that day and wondered why in the world were there missed calls from friends so early in the morning. I called Hadeel up and she excitedly told me, " So? Did you register for your classes?" "Aha! That's what that fuss was all about!" I thought. "No!" "Go register for them now before all the seats get taken up!" she advised me.

My fifth semester began under the administration of another new dean.
On Facebook, there were numerous posts celebrating his proclaimed position. Mr.Gusbi firstly appointed the doctors at the faculty to become counselors for students to assist with scheduling classes, solving issues that some students found themselves stressing over, and to advise on any topic when implied necessary. His agenda seemed firm and serious; you had to respect firm and serious!
Every story commences with a tedious beginning that unfolds to a plot, which gets twisted by an unexpected climax. The turning point of the storyline is followed by the resulting resolution that's concluded by a type of ending, which is only the beginning of another story. I'd like to consider this semester as the 'unfolding of a plot' portion of my story. Since I joined the faculty, I've morphed into someone else that still hints off at who I was once upon a time.

The campus and its vibes aren't the ideal representation of Libya's turbulent reality. Although I'm a night owl, I'm also a morning person. I'd get in the car with my father and head to college. On the way, we had gotten accustomed to witnessing the daily misfortunes Libyans have to deal with. Firstly, we'd pass by the bank and if the bank had cash, then we'd find queues of people waiting to get a copious portion of their rightfully entitled money. They all had to withdraw the same amount of money that was permissible by the bank; it's like communism gone wrong! "Humiliation!" my dad would say with an agonized look. Down the road, palm trees would render Tripoli with beautiful views. However, the lack of government action to protect its beauty led to the city's horrendous vandalization. Almost every wall is invaded by graffiti; since not all who spray paint are artists, they're not always something to admire and ponder at. Even the air is victimized by the pollution that results from the stench of the piled up garbage on the sides of many roads. Moreover, all kinds of checkpoints may be found on the way; there are ones that are occupied by unidentified masked faces with guns hung to their chests, and others by those who identify as our police. Their protection excludes those children selling napkins during the traffic lights' red duration. Unfortunately, I watched one of those innocent children literally grow up in the streets. While I finished half my journey at college and increased my knowledge, the poor boy spent the past two years becoming an expert at selling napkin boxes to drivers once they're forced to stop by the red lights. As we circle around what is described as the mini-island to head to Tripoli's University parking lot, I always got a feeling that I'm not in Libya any longer, but at a place where I belong and blend in.

My fear of heights is ever present. I know that because whenever I see the stacks of stairs I have to go down from the parking lot, I always say my prayers so I don't find myself stumbling and attracting unsolicited attention. After I safely get down, I smile. I like it here. A lot. I feel welcomed-every time! My days would usually start off in the Montada, a study hall where not a lot of studying gets done. I loved it when Farah,Maram, Saba, and/or Hadeel called me up and asked to meet there! Sometimes, we studied like the biggest nerds because we had an impending exam. Other times, we studied because we didn't want to lag behind, and our studying session would most likely be interrupted by a talk about a topic that's irrelevant of what we were supposed to study! My favorite conversation with Farah in the Montada was when she vented about her struggles as a Palestinian! The conversation was triggered by Trump's announcement about Jerusalem being the new capital of Isreal. She told me how she cried at his impudent words. Her storytelling about how it all began with a treacherous act by the zionists that led to her not getting the privileges we all forget about absentmindedly opened my eyes to some gruesome truths about the world we live in. When members of the student counsel hung up Palestinian flags and posters in the hallways of the faculty that indicated our solidarity, I knew that this thoughtful act wasn't going to change neither Trump nor Netneyaho's mind, but I knew that my sweet Farah was going to feel a tad, bit better.

The scheduling of the lectures didn't coincide appropriately with the classes I needed to take, but I went ahead and took them anyways because I'm a wild rebel. Dr.Saqer's lectures were not to be missed. I made sure to make up for the General Microbiology lectures I missed by taking the voice records of him and listening to them carefully since he was spilling information as he spoke. The way he spoke was succinct but simultaneously explicit; my favorite kind of teaching. Furthermore, I don't think anybody skipped the Pharmacology lectures because whether it was Dr. Malak Aljafari, or Dr.Shaaban Saad, or Dr.Ahmed Tawti, they always got us attentive the entire hour- each, by their unique method of getting their job done just right. I loved how Dr.Malak always began the lecture with a quick review of the previous one. Dr.Shaaban amazed us all at how simple he made each topic. For instance, when we were learning about heart failure and the drugs for its treatment, he began with talking about how our bodies don't let the heart take a break. "By whipping," he emphasized, "and sometimes it gets whipped so much that it dies altogether." There was a metaphor in what he said, I just didn't know what it was. More than once during his lectures, I would look to my side and whisper to Maram "He's amazing!" She'd nod in approval as she payed attention with her hands folded. Furthermore, Dr.Twati strived to teach us about the lessons he learned throughout his pharmaceutical career. In addition, Medicinal Chemistry was a subject to take seriously because although the lectures were mind-entertaining, studying it required focus and willpower. Dr.Omran Fahdi's and Dr.Talal gave their utmost best at teaching the drugs' structures and activity relationships!
In between the lectures, I would take a break from my studies and meet up with my companions. Sometimes it was the future Pharmacists I would spend time laughing with at Pharmacological jokes we make up. Other times, I would meet up with Arjy, Ebtehal, and Kawter: the British Girls. Their British accent just adds to their adorableness! And if my Americanized bestie Esra, who's also a medical student, comes with us, we'd jest at how the Brits are turning us into 'accent sponges'.

In this faculty, there's many who I would consider my role models. A group of these role models are the demonstrators at the labs. My favorite is Nesreen Moagel, the princess of the Chemistry department. Not only is she a demonstrator at the Medicinal Chemistry labs, but she's also a Masters' student. She inspires me by her humbleness that's regardless of her many accomplishments and smart brains.
However, not all who roam the hallways come for a significant purpose. You'd find many standing there for the sole purpose of eye-candy! Their harassment is disgusting, but is mostly seen as a norm by my Libyan society which infuriates me on many levels.

The driving force for any studying to get done was the examinations. They never stopped coming. We had to take countless quizzes during labs and lectures. Also, there was a mid-term exam. We had lab finals and finals for the theoretical potions of our subjects. Nonetheless, studying was a less of a burden when I did it with friends. I remember walking into the library with a panic face one time, but Maram saved the day by simplifying the Biochemistry sheets! In the library, on the day of our Medicinal Chemistry Lab midterm, I'm sure it looked like we were having a blast, but the adorable Mahabba and I were actually trying to find easy ways to memorize the uses of Thiotepa, Isoniazid, and many other drugs. Moreover, we didn't get enough time to study for the Medicinal Chemistry final! Thus, Farah and Maram sent me paragraphs and called me each day before the dreaded exam to ease the studying process for me since they took the class the previous semester and knew of its difficulties. Last but definitely not the least, Hadeel would explain anything for me if I asked for her help, even on the night of my last final!!

The finals arrived quicker than anticipated, but took more than a month for them to finally mark the end of the semester. Each final had its challenges. For me, it was my horrible case of tonsillitis that took a toll on me and had an unfortunate impact on my grades. I realized how much of an indulger I am in my studies, because I was reading the labels on all my medications and squeaking with joy when I found out that I knew something prior to reading it on the label. All thanks to Allah, who I never stopped praying to, I finished the semester with a satisfied smile :)

The semester had sentimental value. I learned and learned, that's for sure! Friendships were easily made! The girls of my class are geniuses, kind-hearted lovelies. Each girl had a unique characteristic that specialized her from the others. As I saw many posts from our doctors, praising my class for being outstanding, I thanked Allah for making me become a part of this awesome mass!

Lastly, at this faculty, I didn't just escape from everything that wasn't happiness, but approached everything that was!

Paradox

I am the definition of a paradox
I have a set of keys and many locks 

I smile when I sigh and I sigh when I laugh
I complain and whine but I'm grateful for what I have.
I know that love is unconditional, but under some conditions it's not
Fighting for what I want is crucial, but sometimes I forget why I fought

When I eat, I feel guilty and when I don't, I'm craving everything
I feel like a peasant reveling in a palace of a generous king

I'm capable of happiness and sadness as well
I desire an eternity in heaven but I know there's a hell
When I'm melancholic,
I get a nostalgia for the times when I genuinely smiled
And whilst I'm feeling hysterically wild,
I get a turbulent rush of emotions: very chaotic

I know what happiness feels like and how to get there
Yet, at times of distress, I lose all energy to bear
The heavy burdens that crush my shoulders
Like some destructive machinery: heavy artillery and boulders
But there's nothing to do sometimes but to endure all the pain
Because with that, I've learnt, comes great gain

So the only thing my soul doesn't contradict
Is the assurance that only good comes out of a strict-
Self management and self discipline
In times of obedience and impulsive sin