Page 21 - Issue-23

20 ELITE Vol.1 No.23 September 2020 |

Letter to Leo (the one with the Long Shadow)

ALAA MAHMOUD

Political Science Teaching Now isn’t the right time I tell myself and proceed to work on my
Assistant research papers. I loudly think, I shouldn't prioritize you over my
deadlines. I start patching things up, adjusting the font, citing the
Dear Leo, last few sources and checking the margins. But is it okay that I’m
An endearing friend stopped by today, black, tiny, and dressed in not a priority? Is it okay that you practically live in my head, but the
thought of me doesn’t even cross you? I pull myself together again
red polka dots. I was having breakfast when my eyes met the black and write:
beauty standing on the greyish rails of my balcony, and I couldn't
help but rush to my phone to capture its beauty. My mind “As per our discussion on the troubles citizens face due to
displacement and resettlement for economic reasons, we cannot
automatically pictures a fairy-tale moment as I attempt to capture ignore the social damage that is to take place. Researchers of The
the moment. I take closeups of the ladybird, then I proceed to move World Bank have stated that according to research from the 90s,
backwards, portraying the tiny creature with a background of lush the displaced suffer from an imbalance of relationships from within
them, or their neighbours, affecting both moral and materialistic
greenery and hints of orange petals. While searching for your support they received.”
contact to text you the photos your laugh echoes in my head, and I
imagine how the conversation might go; charming and heart- In my head I can only see a group of women, somewhere rural,
packing their homes, and carrying not one, not two, but many,
warming. I restlessly let the moment slip, head to my computer and many bags, only able to wear gloom for the day. The loud cries of
start accepting my substandard level of academic writing. I spit loss surround the area - the loss of someone, and somewhere in
words into the page holding onto the hope that they will find their that matter. One tear after the next shedding down a dusty white
wall on which they leant, and all that’s there to do is to pull them
own way. I heavily breathe as I embarrassingly reread my work. I close, hold them tight, and promise that everything’s going to be
wonder, why don’t the words just flow like the letters I write you? fine eventually. With little motivation I continue to write:
I pause to gather my thoughts. The word settlement can translate “From a psychological perspective, those having to resettle suffer
from a traumatic experience, especially since their relocation is
into two distinct meanings: the way my soul settles when I talk to forced upon them. And hence, we can conclude that the projects
you, or the way a person settles somewhere. I hesitate to choose implemented by governments seeking development might lead to
between them, which do you think I should write about? Does your homelessness of thousands, and in turn poverty. Those
supporting the projects think it’s cost-effective, supporting the
hometown still hold a special place in your heart? Or did you already overall benefit, and this is based on the preconceived philosophy
replace it? One of my favourite writers once quoted that being away that development means advantaging the majority, even if it
for so long will eventually leave you a stranger, even in your means overlooking those who have their lives on the line.”
homeland. Do you agree? I rub my forehead with my palm and helplessly exhale. The
I want to explore the way you think; the way you think about grieving woman I am is at war against your cruelty and the cruelty
everything, about life. The clock on my phone reads 12PM your of the world - I feel anger emanating from my weakness. We both
think we did not commit punishment worthy crimes, but little did
time, what do you usually do at the time? For all I know you might we know the worst of all crimes was trying to live in a world that
be having brunch, then again, what do I know? Maybe you could be kills us. However, my greed grew, in turn, my inability to hide it,
out for a walk somewhere peaceful with your thoughts - somewhere but I always noticed the difficulty you faced containing it,
containing me. I hold my phone and turn it off, killing all the hope
picture-perfect. Or maybe you’re lying, watching the raindrops as that urges me to wait, the hope which only successive
they hit your glass windows, wearing a coat and a scarf of wool. I’d disappointments come from, yet it seems to me that by doing this,
describe the previously stated scene as that of a murder I am punishing you. Justice requires reciprocity, longing with
longing and estrangement with estrangement, I decide
investigation, where you’re the detective, Doctor Shepherd or accordingly, and start implementing it. Timing though always
Osborn if I’d name you, heading to a rehabilitation centre for crime- makes its difference, and if your name hadn’t popped up on my
related interviews. And of course, I haven’t forgotten the hint of phone accompanied by a joyous sound, I wouldn’t have rethought
meeting you, nor would I have been confused. Despite my
romance, a lover Elizabeth, or Liza as you’d call her accompanies frustration towards you,
you throughout the movie.
Most articles shared the same overall concept, so, after carrying I find myself smiling to have just received a call from you. I realise
that I missed seeing your name on my phone, and I realise that
enough research, my opinion on relocation grew firmer. In my mind, any attempt to hurt you backfires. But most importantly, I realise
I contemplate the distinction between Arabic and non-Arabic letters, that I desperately want to tell you about my day, the ladybug, the
and sigh in realisation, as I, my lover, am nothing like those around homeland and housing, and the women who lost their homes. I
desperately need to hear your voice, your laugh. I answer the
you. My name’s not Liza, nor do I wake up to a healthy breakfast phone, holding my breath. Your voice warms my ear, as usual,
and a morning walk before heading to work. And unlike Liza, you and for a second my anger fades. I freeze, then stutter - I’m out of
won’t see me welcoming the accompaniment of strangers for coffee. words. You immediately notice my resentment, and in return,
shower me with a grove of apologies. I stay silent. You then
It might interest you to know that I like greeting people with hugs, proceed to ask about my day, I swallow the bait and reply
but only those I love. You might walkout on me one day at store, to enthusiastically. The ladybug story is where I start, you laugh
find me the next day huddled up in a corner reading a book, yet I still warmly without criticising me. You urge me to follow up and tell
you about the resettlement, listening to all what I have to say. I
fear that after all that, I’m still not up to being a lover to you. I also remain silent, anticipating your response, overwhelmed by victory
- the victory of you agreeing with me - and only then I feel that
fear that our disagreement might sadden you, but me? Don’t worry
Nourhan Osama, Youstina Ebeid, Maries Adel, Nadeen Hesham, Nouran Hossam, Mostafa Sayyed, Reem
about me, for you always were a blessing sent from above, question something of estrangement has not occurred, and I can peacefully
live on. Leo, my dear friend, I wiped my tears long ago, and can
Omran , Zeina Tarek, Hana Henien, Hania Bahaa, Yassmine Gamal Hussein, Salma Bayoumi, Mariam Sultan,
is, what am I to you? now only hope at this moment to be able be where you are, right
I get a hold of my phone and dial your number excited to hear your next to you.
Nada Hosny, Jozeph George , Farah Ezz Eldin, Aliyaa Assem, Assile Mostafa, Rana Doss, Mirna Ossama,
voice. With every passing beep my heart sinks in disappointment.
Farah Islam, Zeina Arafa. translated by Zeina Tarek
| Vol.1 No.23 September 2020 |