TEARS
News
Praise the Prophet…
There was a man and a woman … the woman is me. They call me the Ghoula, wife of the Ghoul, though my real name is “Tender-boon”. I don’t even know the meaning of Ghoul? But my people got so used to calling us Ghouls that we can’t stop them. Naturally the villagers’ fear of us sometimes drives us to do what they seem not to understand, so at times we tend to suck girls’ fingers that they may feel that we too need tenderness.
As I was walking up the fields looking for my spouse the Ghoul, I saw a blazing fire. I asked:” What is this fire?”; they told me: ”It is a fire of revenge. Sitt el-Husn’s husband will burn his first wife, who turned Sitt el Husn into a pigeon, as well as the Ghoula”, and many others too.
I kept on roaming the village, hoping to meet someone who would ease my fear of the fire. I walked along the fields asking the girls and women: ” tell me your story from the day you were born!”; and they would tell me about what is happening to them.
I came across a mother who was crying. ”I had seven sons. They threatened that if I didn’t bear a daughter they would flee: ’We will leave you...you will never see us again!’, eversince they never came back”. Eversince she has been crying.
Close to the mother lamenting her sons, there was another one crying; but without tears. Though I’m sure I noticed tears by her … around her … within her womb … I don’t know?! I heard afterwards that she was the crying mother’s neighbour who was jealous because she herself had never had any sons.
I walked on and heard more weeping. I turned round only to see a pigeon whose tears within were struggling to come out, begging everything around it: the plants, birds, and humans -- to listen to her buried cries. I told her:” tell me your story from the day you were born!”
She told me:”I am Sitt el-Husn. Every time I try to dry my mother’s tears and bring back her seven sons, they ask me to marry them. Even my seven brothers, each has forgotten his mother and has asked me to marry him”.
I kept on roaming the village … hearing and seeing tears in every corner, in every hole, in every place that the villagers fear and despise. Then I saw the tears drawing each other, like pieces of a magnet with a power within, each tear clasping the other, caring for the other; as if it were a mother embracing her child. The tears consoled each other … rallied … and gradually spread over the fields first, and then the whole village. And the fire was put out, and the crying women lived happily ever after.

Latest News