قصيدة أنين الصواري لعلي عبدالله خليفة، قصيدة قصصية تحكي قصة الغوص و الغواص في بحرين ذاك الزمان. أحببت كلماتها المنتقاة  من الماضي البحريني و بعض الحاضر. أحببت فيها خفة الوزن و عمق المعني على الرغم من بساطته

زغردي يا خالتي يا أم جاسم

زغردي ! قد عاد طراق المواسم

جهزي الحناء ،هاتي الياسمين

هاك ماء الورد والعود الثمين

عطري (البشت) وأعطيني الخواتم

طافت البشرى بأهل الحي .. قومي

واتركني عنك تعلات الهموم؛

قد سمعت الكل، في الأسياف، يحكي عن شراع

لا يبالي الموج أو لفح السموم

ساعديني، رتبي عني المساند

وانثري المشموم والأشواق في كل الجوانب

وأصيخي السمع للهولو على الشطان عائد

أشهر الغوص تمطت ..فتبدت

في حساب العمر قرنا وهو غائب

يا فرحتي… ساعة اللقيا تدنت

كم جميل كل ما حولي، حبيب

كل من حولي وقلبي

طفلة مزهوة الأفراح في ليل الموالد

هل ترى كل نساء الحي مثلي

في اندفاعي ؟

عندهن اللهفة الهوجاء في حر التياعي؟

وإشتياقي لو تعرى

بان مجنون الرغائب

مالذي البس يا مرآتي الرعناء.. قولي

نشلي المزدان بالنجمات والكم الطويل

أم ترى ذلك أنسب

نشلي الوردي المقصب

إنه يظهر والتطريز طولي

***********

يا حبيبي

سوف ألقاك بتهليلي، وأنغام الطبول

سوف يلقاك ابتهالي

وسؤالي

كيف طوفت بأعماق البحار ؟

كيف حال البحر في صمت الليالي؟

كيف أنتم في عيون الشمس في ذاك النهار ؟

كيف كنتم والآلي؟

خبر الدنيا وخبرني وارفع

آهة النهام في الأجواء باللحن الموقّع

روّع الحيتان في الأعماق يا ابن السندباد

روع الظّلم وأنصاف الرجال في عناد

قل لهم كيف يكون العيش في دنيا حقيرة ؟

يركب الكل المحال

ينبرون الوحل في قلب الهلاك

باصطبار في اعتلال

يفلقون الصدف الموحل في عز الظهيرة

حسبما شاءت أميرة

في أقاصي الأرض.. في أغنى البلاد

في قصور من ضلال

تتشهى في دلال

درة حبلى نضيرة

********

يا سنين الغوص, يا ظلم الرجال

يا أتونا عشت كي تصلى سعيره

ايها المحموم في ليل السهاد

أيها المحروم يا ابن السندباد

زلزل الدنيا وأسمعني، وصعد

للسماء صرخة حق لا تحيد

إذ متى أنصف يا ليل الجواري والعبيد

ومتى أرفع راسي للصواري

شامخا مثل شراعي في فضا كل البحار

ومتى يعلو على (البتيل) في النور إزاري

كالبنود

هاهنا الإنسان في ذاتي بردد

عاد حقي… عاد حقي

ويزغرد

يا حبيبي

سوف أحكي لك عن شوقي جهارا

عن جنون الصبية اللاهين في حقل توارى

خلف كثبان الرمال

وعن العين وضحكات الصبايا

دونما أي أتزان

عن نخيل أرطبت قبل الأوان

عن حكايات الزمان

عن (مراداة) العذارى

عصر يوم العيد عن كل السهارى

في أمان

*******

يا حبيبي

سوف أحكي لك عن ليل المحرق

حين يخلو

من جموع تنزوي في كل مفرق

تقطع الوقت بأوهام وأحلام، وتطرق

كل باب للدعابات واشجان الحديث

سوف أحكي لك عن ليل المحرق

حينما يخلو من الناي المؤرق

في الليالي المقمرات

يسكب اللحن العراقي الحزين

طارقا كل الحواري والجهات

ليبكي قلب عذراء سجين

تزرع الآه واصداء الأنين

في أعالي حصنها الداجي الحصين

سوف أحكي لك عن ليل المحرق

حين يغرق

في متاهات الظلام

وطيور الليل حيرى لا تنام

ترصد الساحات قفرا من زحام

من ضجيج

يا أساطير الخليج

لي فيك عبرة عند الختام

عن جزاء الصبر للقلب المحرق

I recently wrote about Bahrain Polytechnic’s advertisement for tutor positions. The human resources manager have just replied my email. I’m pleased that they did, and that my comment did not go unnoticed.

Thank you for the email you sent to our web address recently.  Your points were noted and we changed the wording on our documentation immediately.  I can assure you there was no intention to offend or discriminate.  I can also assure you that despite the wording, we have received applications and made appointments that encompass a wide range of nationalities. The fact that we have many different nationalities on our staff is a reflection of our recruitment practice.

Today the Tutor advertisement was taken off the web to give us the opportunity to finish processing the 100s of applications we have been fortunate enough to receive. We would, however, still welcome your application. If you require an application form please let me know.

I really came to discover this term very recently. During my trip to Chicago I was invited to a family dinner by a really nice local family who worked in Chicago Public Schools. The father had started to learn Arabic and was reading translated Arabic poetry.  It was a pleasant night, and we came to talk about education in Bahrain. He asked if we had Madrasahs.  I said we sure did, quite surprised at the question, but he was surprised in return.

He asked if I’ve ever been to one, and confusion was sweeping over me. I reassured him that I did, and pointed out that illiteracy was not a problem in Bahrain: almost everyone goes to school, girls included. The topic was still not dropped, as he asked what exactly was taught in madrasahs, and whether we had the chance to study anything apart from Islam and the holly scripts. I looked up, still confused, partly shocked, half-realizing what exactly was going on.

“Sir, I went to a public school, a government-run public school, not a religious one. We did science, mathematics, some history and geography, but all in Arabic. We did English as a second language and we once a week had an Islamic education class which students did not take seriously”.

With this, there was a sense of relief from everyone. I did not point out what caused the miscommunication, and we went on to discuss why students did not take that class seriously.

After that incident I realized how widespread the term was- it was everywhere. As a matter of fact it is no longer written with a capital M. It’s written with a small letter m, a proper term in the English dictionary that  is in short used to describe religious, terrorism-breeding schools  .  The word, a derivative of the route “daras”, meaning “to study”, in the mind of an Arabic-speaking person simply means the place of study, that is, school. It’s a secular term, subscribing itself to no particular religion or  political agenda.

I recounted the details of what happened to a Columbian friend, who laughed, and shared his bit of language malfunction: once on a trip to Louisiana he asked a Mexican (in Spanish) the directions to take a certain bus. He later on found out that “taking a bus” the way he chose to say it then- which was perfectly alright in Columbian Spanish- meant having intercourse with the bus to Mexican ears.

Bahrain Polytechnic's Ad

Qualifications
• a recognized qualification in tertiary teaching;
• ENGLISH tutors must have a recognised qualification in teaching English for speakers of other languages;
• a relevant technical specialist qualification or a bachelors degree (minimum);
• a native speaker of English with excellent communication skills in English, both verbal and written;

I came across a very disturbing advertisement for tutoring posts in Bahrain Polytechnic. The Advertisement was for multiple tutoring vacancies in subjects ranging from Accounting to Electro Technology for degree-level students, and I found it really shocking that they would blatantly state that “Native speakers will be given preference” on the website, and reiterate that in the application document under “Qualifications”.

There are way too many things that are wrong with this I’m not sure where to start. First I’m unsure how being a native English speaker is a “Qualification” as such. Fluency and good command in English are things that can be thought of as qualifications, but a person’s mother tongue?

Second, I have absolutely no idea what being a native English speaker can possibly add to an Accounting, Mechanical Engineering, IT or Marketing tutors, and would really love to hear the insights from the Polytechnic about maybe revolutionary studies that they came across that shows that successful, renowned higher education institutions only hire“native English speakers”, in a country, I shall add, where English is commonly spoken yet remains a second language for most?

I tried to look at this from so many ways to make it look less disturbing or put a positive spin on it but I just couldn’t. They could have easily demanded good command of English, fluency, had proper criteria to measure or quantify that, and even if “native” was their shortcut into all of this I don’t think it’s acceptable. It is offensive, to my “non-native English speaking” Bahraini self and others.

I wrote to the Polytechnic, I don’t know if my email would mean anything, especially in terms of actual change of recruitment policy, but I sure hope they get the message that, despite English being my second language, I sure can manage to articulate how I feel about their advertisement.

I did not expect to be culturally shocked in Cleveland. I had lived for five years away from home, and was misguided thinking I should not be expecting to have a culture shock. I was wrong. My first two months in Cleveland were tough. My first day was a series of encounters that left me at best wondering. I had trouble taking the bus, queuing in Starbucks, and standing in the street.

I guess my first- and maybe main- cause of discomfort and shock was how to behave around strangers, or rather, how strangers behaved around me. My university is towards the East, not so far from East of Cleveland, an economically troubled area. Every time I waited for my bus and a stranger approached and said hi and started asking where I’m heading to, where I work, and talked about the journey of their day my nerves were on edge. I never knew whether they were being friendly, or were intending mug me. It took me almost two months to figure it out.

During orientation sessions held to help international students understand the American way of life, one point has been repeatedly stressed: “Americans avoid asking strangers about religion, politics and sex, so they expect the same from you”, and I honestly find that statement very bizarre. I am still not sure what benchmark was used to compare Americans to, but one thing that I observed here was that many people I met felt at liberty of asking about all three of those. Some people told me this was specific to the “Mid-West”, while others said it was specific to certain ethnic groups. I don’t have an aswer.

While riding the bus people would ask  me where I came from, if I was from India, what my religion is, and discuss various “hot” topics of international politics they assume would be of interest to me. By now I feel fully accustomed to how things are here, and I no longer feel that uncomfortable talking to strangers. I can distinguish friendly people who want to talk about the agonies of their day from those who are waiting for a chance to runaway with my purse, I enjoy small talk with people heading to work and it amazes me how simple people here are. I still, though, kind of dislike hearing “where are you from”, and I am not sure exactly why.

People in Cleveland also surprised me in so many positive ways. People here are very generous. They invite you for meals, offer to get you coffee on their way and have no problems giving you a ride without splitting gas money even when gas was $4/gallon. The day I moved in, my next door neighbours were moving out, and they gave me their TV, and their air-conditioner, at no charge.

I think I came to Cleveland expecting to find Cardiff, and that’s why I was shocked. I found that every time I was surprised by something, it wasn’t because it was different than Bahrain, but because it was different than Cardiff. I think my subconscious established already that Cleveland should and would be different than Bahrain, and choose Cardiff for comparison. What’s amazing is that Cleveland has- I think- more in common with Bahrain.

It was a Saturday almost ten months ago. It was my first visit to downtown Cleveland.  I was bored and thought I can visit Tower City Center and do some window shopping. I took an almost empty train- known as the Rapid here- that dropped me right in the underground level of Tower City. I found my way up and for a second I wasn’t sure if this was the mall or just the train station.
It took me around 45 minutes to stroll down all floors. As I strolled down its corridors one thought preoccupied me: what is wrong with this place?  I found my way out to the street and glanced its exterior. The Architecture wasn’t it. What is wrong with this street despite the high risers, what makes it feel so- dead?

-“is there something that I’m missing?”  I heard a stranger behind me say. I turned, and it was a guy in his late twenties.
-“Pardon?”
-“Is there something about this building that I’m missing? Something that makes you look at it?”
-“I’m just new here. I’m wondering what makes this city what it is. What makes you feel a certain way about it”
-“It is Saturday you know”

Yes, it wass Saturday and the image of “downtown” on Saturday in my head was contrary to reality. I think part of my disorientation was because of my linking the word “downtown” to “town” in British English. Not exactly.  Cleveland’s downtown is not its shopping and nightlife center. Rather, its business center inhibited 9 to 5 weekdays and dead afterwards. Cleveland is one of many American cities that did not have a “town” in the British sense of the word.

Ten months on, I decided it’s time I made up my mind about how I feel towards this place.

Cleveland is hard to get used to, hard to feel you’re at home. The city is scattered, composed mainly of neighbourhoods miles apart. If you don’t drive, it’s almost impossible to get the real flavour  of the city. Most of the time you would actually forget you live in a city. It does not feel like one.  I thought again of my first impression of the city- what makes it feel so dead- and I think I now have an answer. The city does not have its people, not many people live here, not many people like living here.  Those whose work binds them to city live in suburbs outside Cleveland, in Lakewood and Westlake to the west, Cleveland Heights and Beachwood to the east.