كناية

Mermaid in the Old City..

Prose poem by: Hikmet ElHadj..

I live now in Kristinas Hammen, which means Kristina Harbor in Swedish, in a small apartment, close to the forest and the sea. My life is quiet and monotonous in this small sea town, especially after reaching retirement age with a series of chronic diseases bequeathed to me by the sea and boxes of memories. But my life before that was never easy. I was a sailor and lived my whole life at sea, on ships, from port to port, from country to country. And by virtue of time, my work developed, and I became a captain and captain of a ship. My money increased, and my influence became stronger, but I was not a happy day. I miss family and holidays with the kids, visiting relatives, going to church on Sundays, sitting in the sun in the garden, and reading a book before bed. The sea has become a part of me; it inhabits me, and its salty water runs in my blood. Ports rotated from the shores of China to Central America, passing through the Mediterranean, the Red Sea, the Persian Gulf, the North Sea, the Baltic Sea, the Pacific, and the Atlantic Ocean. After each trip, I would return to Göteborg, my city overlooking the most beautiful seas of the world, west of Sweden. On holidays, go to the sailors’ pub near the port. And so I discovered that I was deceiving myself, that I spend all my holidays in or near the port. The sea calls me, and I quickly answer the call. In fact, I don’t have many memories to fash it back or recall. I’m lying. It is one single memory that has devastated my whole life, and what comes after it is no longer the same as what was before it. I have been told repeatedly that it is the curse of the ancient cities of the East. Once, my ship docked in the port of La Goulette in Tunisia on the southern shore of the Mediterranean. The ship had to stay for three days in the port to unload its cargo and also to refuel. A Tunisian sailor, an old friend of mine, took me on a tour around the old city in Tunisia, and from there I bought many oily oriental perfumes such as amber, oud and musk, “Henna” and spices, especially black pepper, dried mallow and Harissa, handmade leather shoes and a suede backpack. On the second day, my Tunisian Muslim friend left me alone to roam the markets, waiting for him to complete the Friday prayer at the Zitouna Mosque, located in the heart of the old city, and join me. I was walking around alone, smelling the oriental scents and enjoying the sounds of sellers selling their wares, the conversations of people among themselves, the throngs of tourists from all over the world, the cafés filled with their patrons, and the scents of Turkish water pipes with the scent of apples and grapes wafting from them and filling the narrow streets and dark alleys. And there, in a small moment forgotten by history, by the back door of the Great Mosque, I saw her. Her beauty was overwhelming, her bulging teeth ruined me, and her long straight nose captivated me. I approached her and made a silly question about some merchandise. You looked at me and smiled. “Follow me,” she said in perfect French. followed her. She said her name is Awatef. I tried to tell her my name, but she didn’t care. We went to a small café with a few people, sat down at a table, and ordered two cups of green tea with pine nuts. I looked at her the whole time, and I couldn’t believe how one woman could contain so much beauty. She asked me about my condition and my condition, and she spoke a little about herself. I told her that I was traveling tomorrow on the deck of my ship. She did not show any emotion but asked God for safety and peace. I loved her and wanted to tell her to come with me or let me stay here with you. I love you. But I did not say anything, of course, for reason has its limits as well as madness. I kept looking at her silently. And between one movement and another, a breeze comes to me from its strange, beautiful scent. The smell of light human sweat mixed with the scent of body perfume and released by that mighty body that I have never seen in all my life a woman like her walking in this way where every part of her body tells you come on come hold me and take me and don’t leave me torment alone. Confused, I told her: Listen! You are very beautiful. ” God of the heavens! She immediately laughed and said, “You’ve only been here two days, and you’ve been talking like them.” Do not make it too much. You don’t have to. I know I’m not. I said, but I am enchanted by the beauty of your face. She said, “Oh, no.. Leave that, please.” My teeth are prominent, and my mouth is crooked. I said confidently, like Cleopatra. She was silent and did not object; Cleopatra was never like this. There was silence for two seconds, then she asked me: Do you know Andalusia? Andalucia? I said: No, she said it was Spain today. She remembered some murky information and murmured: Oh, okay. She said: I am from there. That land was once ours. I felt that the matter was starting to get complicated and away from my praise for her beautiful beauty and rebellious body. I tried to return with my non-literary French, but she continued: Except for the crooked mouth, which belongs to me alone, the nose, and the eyes are morisque. And here quite laid out. I kept sipping green tea and filling my mouth with delicious pine nuts so that I wouldn’t have to declare my ignorance. The green tea ended up in the two cups. This signaled us to leave. We got up together, and she bid me farewell with two kisses on the cheeks. She told me every time you visit Tunisia, come here and ask about me, because this cafe belongs to my father. You will always find me waiting for you between the sea and the sand. I did not say anything. I was sad. I told her don’t you like to travel? She said who doesn’t love him! Have you not heard of the masses of arsonists in the death boats? Of course, I would like to see the world behind this sea how it is. I told her, “Come with me.” She laughed purely, and her beauty increased, and her eyes shone, and she said, Do you know how many sailors like you said this to me! Then she raised her hand, pointing to a place at the door of the café, and asked me: Did you not notice the name of the café? Uh, sorry, you don’t know our language. It is written in Arabic and means the old sailor’s cafe. I looked for an old patch stuck to the wall and guessed it had the name of the café in a language I didn’t understand. Before I left her while I was on the narrow corner, I told her completely desperately, “I love you, come with me, or let me stay with you.” She came close to me and whispered in my ear: Go now and come back, without ship, luggage, or memories. You will find me here. I will be for you, sailor, whom the mermaid has been waiting for so long in the valley. The sea has ruined my life, as has the emotions of the old city of Tunis, pepper, spice, and perfume. And now, at the end of my life without the slightest value – I no longer drive ships and travel at sea, but spend most of my time going to the port and bringing back the same memories every day – I still know that a bride of the sea in the valley awaits the ships anchored every day, and that I have lost my emotions there forever. Ah, what a damn life you are!