48/PALESTINE
in PHOTOGRAPHY
THE LAST DESERT TRUFFLE // ALAA MINWER & LULUA ALYAHYA
in IN ENGLISH, TEXT
Ahmad waited in much anticipation for this day. At last, his older brother Waleed acted on his promise to take Ahmad with him to the desert. It was a custom to camp at this time of year in search of “Desert Truffles” but ever since their father has fallen ill, they never had seemed to find time for it. Ahmad swallowed the bitterness of fear as the safety of everything he once knew was threatened by such misfortune. He didn’t attempt to linger on the possibilities, nor could he, since his own world and his, small but glorious, adventures needed his full attention.
Everything was ready. His brother teased him as he checked his exploring tools in the small bag. But, while they were going to “go wild” he was going to find the wild. He was always mesmerized by how such a cruel environment could be the home for some of the most devious and strongest creatures.
They left before the break of dawn, they needed to get as much shade as possible, because no amount of chilled drinks could spare them the stinging heat of the sun. Ahmad didn’t wait for them to unpack, he got to his feet, but before he could venture further, his brother approached him half breathless as his friends came after him like hyenas. He didn’t mind the fact that they came along, but he didn’t exactly celebrate their presence. “15, if you can catch 15 we’re letting you drive.” His friends sneered at Ahmad as if they were so sure he would fail to meet the challenge. But, Waleed breathed again and said, “I know you can, remember how many truffles you found last time?”
“15! I better start now!” he was leaving when Waleed added, “watch your steps. The man at the gas station said there’s an army of snakes on the loose.”
He nodded and left quickly.
He walked until their high-pitched voices were merely whispers and their figures blurry thin lies of white silk.
He had found a couple of desert truffles by now but didn’t pick any, he marked their places and decided to return later to dig them out with the care of an archaeologist in a newly discovered tomb.
The noon sun started to rise over them like an eagle, spreading its wings and kneading its claws into their backs.
He tried to quicken his pace to soon quit his search. But he came to a spot where he found a circle of stones and beneath all the sand— the most beautiful, exquisite thing he had ever seen. There, deep purple surface half buried. He picked up his tools and brushed around it revealing its true size and color against the sunlight. It was drinking sunrays and glittering in return, it escaped his mind to keep it in the shade. As he stared, he dusted the shelves in his mind but could not recall reading or hearing about such species. He would be the one to discover them, the one to name them. He felt a strong sense of primary protectiveness; he owned it and he was ought to protect it.
He approached it slowly as if sneaking on a sleeping dragon and crouched next to it . He stared at the dancing greetings between the sunrays and its skin. And slowly his vision started to dance as well… he blinked once, still, twice…, almost but, no. He felt the heat increasing as if he was a freshly kneaded dough of bread entering the flamed oven. Putting his hand out, he reached for the truffle to examine it.
As his fingers touched the surface he felt a small shot of electricity, but he shrugged it off as if it was merely the feel of a kiwi’s fuzzy skin. The deep purple color started to flow from the truffle’s surface to his nails, his fingers, and soon his whole hand. He panicked, eyes wide open, but it was as if time had suddenly stopped. He felt drowsy and his fear eased, in the same pace of the withdrawal of a quiet wave. It was as if he got suspended from his own body and now he is only watching the life of someone else. The sky dimmed, and the whole world darkened.
Ahmad thought it was over but it has only just begun.
A few minutes of complete dead quietness were interrupted with a faint whisper: “He’ll pay… He’ll pay.”
A gust of sandy wind appeared out of nowhere and swallowed him. He closed his eyes to protect them from the specks of sand, and in an instant, he shifted from the place he was in to an unfamiliar chilled tent.
His legs were shaking and his head throbbing in pain, while feeling completely disoriented. He was trying to make out the details of the inside of the tent, only for his eyes to fall on four-hooded figures around him.
Two approached and gripped his hands; he was now moving. The tent seemed to stretch endlessly. He felt like he was underwater, everything so still, so weightless. As they carried him he tried to connect the threads together, only when he came close to make sense of what was going on, that he discovered something abnormal. One would need quite the sense of perception to realize that the feet, of the four-hooded figures never touched the ground; that they were indeed floating.
At last, they came to a stop. What now sat in front of him chilled him to the bones. It was a figure of something that seemed like a man, with its eyes shut, it didn’t bother to hide its face like the rest, and never spoke a word, not until everyone had left, or rather vanished. It sat that way for what seemed like an eternity. But, suddenly, the man… No, he dared not call it, or think of it as, a man. The thing’s eyes opened, and they were as white as the fear that now gripped Ahmad’s heart.
“Oh, fear not, my boy.” It said. But its lips were not moving. It was as if it spoke to Ahmad’s mind directly without any barrier.
Ahmad still shaken with this horrid sight, managed to ask: “Who are you?”
“It matters not who I am. You, my boy, need to be answering me.” It uttered calmly. “You were not supposed to find it, no one was supposed to find it!”
Ahmad didn’t know what it meant at first, but the thoughts linked quickly in his mind, he didn’t know how he found it; it found him.
“What were you planning to do with it? Stew it, grill it?”
Ahmad hadn’t got the chance to think that far, he thought he would probably take it with him home so he can examine it closely. “I don’t know,” he answered.
“Oh, but I do. I do.” A hint of a smile appeared on the face of the being sitting, but vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“You dare not look into my eyes. But do you know what I see when I look into yours?”
Ahmad blinked.
“Greed.” Said the strange being. “That’s what drives you here under the cursed light, you wretched beings. That’s what drives you to steal what’s not yours! My last truffle, the very last, is now tainted by your touch, by the light. And now I’ll make you pay!”
Ahmad, petrified, stood there trying to comprehend every word the being had said. Trying to compose answers. But, it all felt too much. He felt like he was defeated before he had the chance to fight.
“I don’t want it,” Ahmad finally had the courage to say.
“You already have it, it’s gone, it’s all gone.” the being said with a tone full of despair, rather than rage.
“Remember this, boy, you will pa…”
Someone is calling his name "Ahmad, Ahmad, wake up."
His face wet, his heavy eyelid slowly opening. Waleed’s face started coming into focus.
“Rain, where did rain come from?” Ahmad thought to himself.
Sunstroke, they said, but he could only repeat to himself what happened that day.
They went back home. Waleed and his friends beaming with victorious smiles on their faces, only to fade out at the sight of his mother’s sunken eyes; their father was dead.
***
short story // alaa minwer
art // lulua alyahya
ABANDONED MEMORIES #2
in ART
Editor's Note: If you'd like to participate in Reema's project, please contact us jaffatelaqlam@gmail.com for details. Reema is looking for old photographs. Abandoned or personal photographs are very much welcomed.
PURE LONG-SENTENCED FICTION // AMNA ALSHEHHI & Waad AlBawardi
His violence was maddening for a jerk with a lute who drank his coffee blacker than freud’s abyss – no diluted sugar, no added milkiness. She was a child and she knew he smelled it in her fanciful talk, full of crazy and God. He was a lusty little boy and she tasted it in his persistent passion, charming in its foolish perseverance.
While they sat on the very same edge of the same troubled surface of murky water, he fished for milfs and naked hags and she sifted the waters with her trembling fingers, searching for cheap magic and muted scenes from indies and cult films about dirty young lovers. He wanted a kiss and a lap dance, she wanted to drown the world in her biscuit fantasies. He wanted glory, she wanted tragedy. They feared each other’s needs. They were bored and terrified of them, occasionally titillated. They lived, breathed and filled their bellies and heads with romance and steamier subjects of conversation.
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text // amna alshehhi
art // waad albawardi
JUDGMENTAL ANGELS, RIYADH // MOMAD SHONO
in ART
TAWSEET AL SHARQ #3: مُلهَم
in ART, INTERVIEW, IN ENGLISH
In this project of Tawseet Al Sharq, I will bring to light Middle Eastern cultures, traditions, beauty and issues by examining and discussing Middle Eastern art and artists. Since this project started on Tumblr before coming to Jaffat El Aqlam, this piece is therefore dedicated to Wed, the mind behind it all, who I have had the pleasure of following and seeing her art flourish through social media platforms.
When I first came across her work, I was fascinated by how little she uses to effectively show the meaning behind her work. By focusing on replicating a simplistic figure, Wed transforms her minimalistic character from a mere shape into an extension of expressions of thought. Her work places heavy-weighted issues and expressions of Arab youth so tenderly on paper and poignantly celebrates women within that society. After reaching out to her, we sat down and discussed some of her pieces and the following is what happened.
I admire your simplistic character and your approach in producing such works. The use of a pen and paper makes it more accessible to other Arab youth and breaks down the barrier between the audience and your work. So the message flows freely in between the two and is not restrained within the work itself. Can you tell me why you used a simplistic approach to portray such figures and powerful messages?
From the start, I try to keep the character as pure and simple as possible to convey a certain emotion or thought because the goal of my work is to inspire people which is why the character is, in fact, called Mulham, which is Arabic for the word ‘inspirational’. I started off with deciding on the shape, rather than on the approach, and began with a shape of demaghi, which means being or related to the brain. The whole figure symbolizes the brain with the oblong head and minimalistic body. Such a figure disassembles itself from the physical body and does not need one to be enabled or to express itself. To that end, Mulham became an expression of itself and a continuation of my thoughts.
What audience was responding to your work and how have the responses changed overtime?
The majority of the audience that respond to my art are usually Middle Easterners, and women whose opinions resonate with the thought expressed in my work, whether they agree with them or not. When I first started uploading works of Mulham, there wasn’t a lot of response as the subject of my work and ideas accompanying Mulham were still not established with the audience. But with time, they started understanding that Mulham is not just a quick sketch of lines on paper accompanied by thoughts but is much more alive with emotions and thoughts, which gave the character more depth after it was established. Also with such a figure, repetition becomes accessible to both the audience and I to get my message across effectively.
Now, I find it really interesting when two Mulhams are present in the same work where they create this interesting dynamic of how we share and use our ideas on both a societal and an individual level. How do you interpret that in your work, such as Secret Harmony?
Secret Harmony shows an uninhibited attraction, where there is no logical reason to be attracted. The attraction is just a raw emotion of the basic level of connection and more importantly examines a connection that doesn’t have to be explained. The nodes orbiting Mulhams’ heads signify knowledge and by count are unequal showing a difference in the way of thinking yet there is still chemistry. The everlasting connection through the figure combining them into one shows the love, vision and continuity of such a connection. Mulham serves the purpose of capturing such an emotion and cherishing it without the inflection of gender, age or a certain individual due to his simplistic figure. And it is important to me to encapsulate an emotion solely as an expression of itself, to offer the audience a work that expresses a pure connection they have with another person whatever that connection may be.
Next lets go back and talk about the making of the figure itself, how do you change the character to address a certain topic?
I include a specific body part in some of my works, only to highlight an issue specific to that body part. When I do want to specifically show a woman I add a tooq (crown) of flowers or beads to surround Mulham. The only time I distinguish a woman in my work is when the work itself is directed to women and pertaining to an issue concerning women and their rights. Other than that Mulham is genderless.
In Freedom of Opinion, the connection is different than other connections we have seen throughout your work. Instead of being connected organically as they have usually been through their bodies or their minds, they are connected in an out-of-body box signifying their opinions. How is the connection through the box important to this portrait?
This piece is dedicated to all those who have been detained, or faced hardships due to voicing their opinions because they were at the forefront of the revolution. These men and women endure the hardship of raising such opinions, yet it is in their imprisonment that the concepts they’re fighting for, further rose and came forth. So the same box that they are imprisoned in has become a vessel that contains their battle, and their ideas are paving the way for future generations. Their fight has not gone unnoticed and their ideas and achievements can never be imprisoned so this piece is in honor of them.
ARTISAN HANDS // HUDA ABDULMUGHNI
in PHOTOGRAPHY
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PURPLE // CHNDY
in PHOTOGRAPHY
FILM JOURNAL #2
in PHOTOGRAPHY
