tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65142157606060368822024-03-13T02:54:01.683-07:00KhushushbanHussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-36486571114360305002016-02-26T08:56:00.000-08:002016-04-04T23:04:06.068-07:00Roots<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Like tumbleweeds racing by the whirlwind, last year saw me journeying from one landscape to another, leaving many houses behind, and saying way too many 'goodbyes'..<br />
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I've been weight down by the demands of reality as I was aspiring towards the light of creativity, trying hard as ever to make ends meet after setting myself free from the chuckles of the corporate world and a job that made me gray to earn money.. to pursue art, a life that I always wanted to lead instead of merely dreaming about it.. realizing the thin ropes that I'll be walking upon to provide for my daily needs, but that's a sacrifice I was welling to make.</div>
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However, changing homes and the career shift were quite unsettling and restlessness seized hold of my life... but my journey last year, hard as it was, taught me to embrace uncertainty, and to let myself be sharpened and honed by it.<br />
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Alas, when I had more time on my hands for my craft, I found myself facing the longest creative burn-out I have ever had.... unable to cross through the doorway into the realm of creation, it was hard not to panic.. I've lost my inspiration, and i found myself wondering "What if I've lost it for good? I'll have to be back again to the corporate world... I'm not even sure if I can.."</div>
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But the words of Thomas Mann echoed in my ears "We can't wait for those perfect moments, when daily life seems to melt away and nothing exists but the fire of inspiration. Those moments of grace are precious, but rare. Treasure them, he says, but don't depend upon them; for the rest of the time we must be able to work despite the bills clamoring for attention, the dog barking, the telephone ringing, and the mailman at the door."</div>
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So I drowned myself in the act of creation. I practiced my craft diligently for hours every day. I practiced because I longed to draw, because there is something I alone can create. I scribbled and erased and scribbled again, I mad "bad art", put it away, and made another and another.. I knew I must get them all out of my system in order to finally reach a line that is in perfect harmony with my deepest nature.. I knew I must dig deeper and deeper to a place where the root of creativity lies, all the while learning to free myself from the obligation of perfection.. learning to accepted what comes out of my creative silence and learning to make the best out of it.<br />
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My talent might be humble, I can't draw the line I wish to draw, but I can and will draw the line I am capable of drawing. Again and again throughout the course of my life..</div>
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I found pleasure in <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">the practice itself and by being open to the mystery and the miracle of life, I was </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">able to find art, inspiration and beauty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">A root that dreamt of becoming human...</span></div>
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There are always moments when one feels empty and estranged. </div>
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Such moments are most desirable,</div>
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for it means the soul has cast its moorings and is sailing for distant places.</div>
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This is detachment --</div>
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when the old is over and the new has not yet come. </div>
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If you are afraid, the state may be distressing,</div>
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but there is really nothing to be afraid of. </div>
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Remember the instruction:</div>
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Whatever you come across -—</div>
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go beyond."<br />
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-Nisargadatta Maharaj</div>
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One of my summer journeys lead me to the oasis of Siwa... a land out of time, where ancient traditions and ancient mud-break houses are still standing like a steadfast soldier against the concrete risings in a battle between modern and primitive...<br />
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The old crumbling walls once harbored people's lives most of them now are mere barns for farm animals and bats...</div>
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The old walls still hold the tribal history and many stories of people's comings and goings, their thoughts and dreams, their happiness and their sorrows..</div>
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In Siwa I worked as a Woldorf tutor for a very talented young Danish artist Electra, Electra's mum is Ellen Raven, a wonderful textile artist and her brother Theo is a talented crafty young man and their beautiful mud-break house was constructed by Electra's skillful and talented father Henrik.. </div>
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together with Electra we made art, music and rhymes.. we told and heard manystories all the while delighting in our daily finds in nature that lays right outside our tiny classroom's door..</div>
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we even made some new friends...</div>
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Siwa brought me a surprise that changed my everyday... Meet Sounbul-Wheat Spikelet... a two month old stray pup, when found he was all alone, lost in an isolated part of the oasis suffering from an eye infection, starvation and abuse.. I took him in and gave him a home within my heart..<br />
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he joined our daily wanders and brought me and Electra so much joy and laughter..<br />
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and by fall it was time to wave goodbye to the beautiful oasis..<br />
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we journeyed back together towards the lights of the big city...<br />
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And oh my, he grew so fast...</div>
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Autumn had a another surprise for me underneath its golden leaves... not long after we arrived to the city we met Bessella -bea.- a beautiful tiny pup the color of autumn leaves, suffering from separation anxiety and desperately looking for home... she stole our heart at first sight and we immediately took her in...<br />
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My family expanded and my life was filled once again with furry love..<br />
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as winter approached I joined a puppetry workshop by the amazing puppet master Bernd Ogrodnik and his lovely wife Hilder at the Egyptian National Puppet Theater.<br />
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I have been admiring the work of Ogrodnik since I was 19 years old and I was inspired by his work and his way of life so you can imagine my immense joy to be accepted in his workshop, to be working under his supervision and to be face to face with his amazing work .<br />
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I learned a lot from Bernd, not just about puppetry and woodwork.. but also about patience, talorance and approaching life with reverence.<br />
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During the workshop I met with many talented fellow artists from different walks of life, we exchanged stories and shared experiences and I was genuinely sad when it was time to say goodbye at the end of the workshop.<br />
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But then an idea sparked in my mind... to reunite my fellow puppeteers and make an annual puppeteers exhibition, in which we all could apply what we have learned from our workshop and share our past experiences and visions all under one roof.<br />
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This was the first exhibition I organize, it was hard work and despite my lack of experience I somehow managed to do it all without any outside funding. Sadly though I was pretty much occupied with the organization of the exhibition and being a mentor and giving a helping hand to my fellow artists which didn't allow much time for me to participate with my own work on time...<br />
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but the exhibition was an unexpected huge success and seeing the happiness in the eyes of my fellow puppeteers as their work was being admired and the joy it brought to the hearts and eyes of our audience made it all worthwhile.<br />
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During the exhibition I held a free workshop for corrugated card board marionette construction, a technique that I acquired years ago from the amazing Kurt Hunter aiming to encourage fellow artists to step into the world of puppetry without the use of heavy tools and the hardships of finding proper wood for carving in Egypt.<br />
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I was happy to have artist Rana Shamel join my worksho, she made caricatures for all the workshop's participants... and she didn't forget about me :)<br />
The workshop was also a success and my students were better than great and I ended up making new friends and heartfelt memories to cherish.<br />
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All of this felt quite amazing giving that I've hardly made any art last year. I'm really proud of this exhibition, and excited that it hurled s for me a new chapter of puppet making and I started working on my first puppet performance.<br />
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It's still a work in progress and I shall tell you all about in due time. but for now I think this post went on longer than I initially intended and I shall leave you now with a glimpse of my one eyed adventurer who's learning to approach life with due reverence.<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-35237954127074603412015-12-25T03:34:00.000-08:002015-12-25T22:35:22.655-08:00Season's greetings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It has been over a year since I was here last sharing my days, my thoughts and my work with you.. Much has been happening with my life but of that I shall tell you in due time...<br />
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For now I would like to share with you my creation inspired by the season.<span style="color: #bf9000;">.</span><br />
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There he is, little Krampus, tongue-sticking, mischievous looking carrying a sack full of bells...<br />
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Wishing you all a creative wintertime, magical yule, a merry Christmas and a year ahead filled with unexpected delights. wherever you are, may your days be warm and your hearts brimming with joy.<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-65178187168038829402014-06-30T16:00:00.000-07:002014-07-15T01:35:31.335-07:00Following breadcrumbs trail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The world of my childhood was filled with stories and legends. I was always fascinated by these tales, and yet terrified in the same breath. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My grandmother narrated these stories with such gravity, I am convinced she believed very intensely in their truth. Her fairytales filled me with a fear of the wilderness. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This fear manifested itself in the form of the mythical creature Omena Elghoula, to roam too near her hut or her well was to risk being Roasted for her dinner. I would panic as my grandmother told her tales, imagining Omena Elghoula stealthily approaching from behind ready to eat my flesh and add my bones to her macabre decorations. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As I grew up I was able to weigh my childhood fear of Omena Elghoula's danger against the reality of the world.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu4dKgVU3HidefnxzzMZry-h2BkojtNy0vD4O970AsnfQtWpyj8WbdXN6szTSVNQ2bLEEV4DYSV5DCpQPRfObhT4MGbcicVLKFQP12YdJiPFPW1p7KZ4y9WNk4mYYqWL7SHsz4gHkDgs/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIu4dKgVU3HidefnxzzMZry-h2BkojtNy0vD4O970AsnfQtWpyj8WbdXN6szTSVNQ2bLEEV4DYSV5DCpQPRfObhT4MGbcicVLKFQP12YdJiPFPW1p7KZ4y9WNk4mYYqWL7SHsz4gHkDgs/s1600/photo+(1).JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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Omena Elghoula is one of the most memorable and distinctive figures in Egyptian and Northern Africa folklore. Omena Elghoula is a supernatural being who appear as a deformed or ferocious-looking woman with one glass eye that reveals the destiny of those brave... or fool hardly enough to enquire. She lives in a hut, cave or deep inside a well, and dwells deep in the wilderness. A many-faceted figure, Omena Elghoula may help or hinder those that encounter or seek her out and may play a maternal role and has association with wildlife. She commonly appears as either a donor, villain, or may be altogether ambiguous.<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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When I heard the call for participants at the <a href="http://clivehicksjenkins.wordpress.com/2013/11/26/20859/" target="_blank">Artlog</a> for The Puppet Challenge with the theme "Folklore, Fairy Tales, Myth and Legends", I took this as an opportunity to bring the nightmare of my childhood into live.</div>
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This challenge allowed me to travel beyond my comfort zone as I decided to take the word "challenge" latterly using unfamiliar materials and even using colors...<br />
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Following fairytales and personal memories like a trail of breadcrumbs I found remnants of nearly forgotten stories, where the fairy tales of my childhood persist within my subconscious.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aNX_YSqmk9hqoSNbKOrQ9CccdGMXUaJKAZ6uLae2YvEeImn8_AJRs6SjYeWXp0UpE5OXryZgcXYe_Vnl50x2C4SUzM9N1d5URXsKAW1E_5RIB13U-vFZdl1DoJLmR9RiSoiLmtsZEkk/s640/blogger-image-199951919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8aNX_YSqmk9hqoSNbKOrQ9CccdGMXUaJKAZ6uLae2YvEeImn8_AJRs6SjYeWXp0UpE5OXryZgcXYe_Vnl50x2C4SUzM9N1d5URXsKAW1E_5RIB13U-vFZdl1DoJLmR9RiSoiLmtsZEkk/s640/blogger-image-199951919.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I didn't have a pattern or a design to start out with... I began by building up a face using air dry clay, a forgiving a material that I found pleasure working with as apposed to wood, once you make the cut its final, this material allowed me to experiment with shapes and curves without starting allover.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOOg_5Vlm92Op6Lbwc4ruy8_ygA3PVb8QkQrXmEp4tsWjeV38eX36UQ-xS8BN2dbpr1GKEAOGCVipx0NalrIb7S0K_nuvkA2MTNvn5WqJ_seC7RLmWHVjYErZqdpH9sRrcshps6q2xto/s640/blogger-image-2093779606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOOg_5Vlm92Op6Lbwc4ruy8_ygA3PVb8QkQrXmEp4tsWjeV38eX36UQ-xS8BN2dbpr1GKEAOGCVipx0NalrIb7S0K_nuvkA2MTNvn5WqJ_seC7RLmWHVjYErZqdpH9sRrcshps6q2xto/s640/blogger-image-2093779606.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After I reached a satisfying result creating the face, I sculpted the body, hands, legs, and feet.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Once all her body parts were modeled it was time to add layers of papier mâché. In order to separate the modeling clay from the layers of papier mâché -clueless as I was- I covered her allover in oil which was almost disastrous as the clay absorbed the oil leaving the paper stuck to the modeling clay. But I was able to quickly recover my work before it was too late. I used Vaseline instead to cover the model which was perfect and I began to build up layers of papier mâché with small torn pieces of paper after soaking them with water and white glue. Unfortunately at this point I was wrapped up in work and white glue I forgot to take any photos!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After the papier mâché dried I carefully cut the face and the body in two half.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And there she was...</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Initially I intended to paint color the eyes, but instead I used tiny glass balls after hollowing the eyes, and I made a base for the glass balls from aluminum foil to allow for light reflection.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In order to give the puppet a proper weight and solidity, I stuffed the puppet with a papier mâché clay that I prepared from torn pieces of egg cartons and white glue and I let it dry before I sealed the two half of the face and the body.</span></div>
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I used the feathers from an old feather duster for the hair... </div>
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I attached the hip to the thigh, calf, and feet with wires and the nick, head, and arms with thick cotton rope...</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Then she was ready for paint and I decided to use water and pencil colors. Now most readers of this blog know that I don't have much experience with colors, so needless to say I was quite nervous about this step, but I realize that Omena Elghoula have always been pushing the protagonist to take the path less traveled, to challenge, and conquer the fear within.. in that sense she was the right kind of evil.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> So, I held my brush and I started painting but I was not happy with my first attempt, so I wiped the paint with a wet sponge, I repeated that several times until I reached an almost satisfying result. I must say I was quite impressed -and lucky too- that the papier mâché was sturdy enough and didn't crumble under the wet sponge bath.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I used an old green scarf that belonged to my mother for a dress, </span>hands and foot was covered with pieces of old torn lace that I found trapped between branches and twigs in the park, and<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> I made her an ear ring from an old key chain ring after I covered it with gold paint.</span></div>
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I created macabre ornaments, bones, mythical horned bird's skeleton along with some beeds made of camel bones, feathers, and bibles for her neckles. </div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I made the control rod from an ivy twigs that I found in my morning wanders...</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxoRRcV7mKQl4AAoKBvJzv-U4uj6Gn0HArsxFZMy8wq5HujVeiS93bUxxiKpw0Z5JI4W03gi_QG3xRf3jPsPdt4NNP2yO7gwthGqL26dA-1rqFIbRGhsCHlA8iuwJx3r7nryRL9bRFJNw/s640/blogger-image--1347272047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxoRRcV7mKQl4AAoKBvJzv-U4uj6Gn0HArsxFZMy8wq5HujVeiS93bUxxiKpw0Z5JI4W03gi_QG3xRf3jPsPdt4NNP2yO7gwthGqL26dA-1rqFIbRGhsCHlA8iuwJx3r7nryRL9bRFJNw/s640/blogger-image--1347272047.jpg" /></a></div>
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after I made the rod, I screwed iron nails with hoops to the body and the control rod to attache the strings..<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And there she was a haggard face and all.. Omina Elghoula</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">She is living now in a dark corner next to my drawing table, hung by nine strings among my fairytales books, twigs and candles. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It hasn't been an easy process by far, while struggling with my skills, I was also struggling with self-doubt. I'm a master of unfinished projects and I was afraid the puppet would turn into another that I'd repeatedly put off, waiting until a time when I would create the best possible puppet, which of course, would always be 'tomorrow'! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have never made a puppet like this before nor have I ever worked with clay or papier mâché. Not to mention working in general without a pattern. I struggled a bit and I improvised all the way. I learned to be flexible about how I work. And extensively made use of available and salvaged materials. As it turned out I've learned a lot from this challenge and I enjoyed every part of the process.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So many things I would have done differently but maybe that's for my very own next puppet challenge.</span><br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-12115509673018910862014-04-02T06:33:00.000-07:002014-04-21T10:46:45.985-07:00The Curious Cachepot Of Spring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The world is yawning, stretching arms.. Spring is here, gliding gracefully through the landscape..</div>
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Springing through a curious spiral cachepot of the ever winding seasons</div>
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Hatching in my palms</div>
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And on my drafting table all the same</div>
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And while the spring strich it's arms to cover the pavement blocks..</div>
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I Wish you all a happy creative Spring Time :)<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-16771528920204734802014-03-21T22:10:00.000-07:002014-03-23T23:43:07.260-07:00A Hermit Life For Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My imagination has been a seashell brimming with nostalgic memories of the sea...<br />
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And time spent on top of a lonely rock anticipating sunrise and contemplating sunset..<br />
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And dreaming...</div>
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Of a house on my back</div>
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And words made beautiful by Mary Oliver<br />
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Once I looked inside</div>
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of a shell folded like a pastry</div>
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and there was a fancy face—</div>
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or almost a face—</div>
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it turned away</div>
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and frisked up its brawny forearms</div>
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against the light</div>
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and my looking in</div>
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I scarcely had time to see it,</div>
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Gleaming</div>
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Under the pure white roof</div>
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of old calcium</div>
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When I set it down, it hurried</div>
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Along the tideline</div>
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of the sea,</div>
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which was slashing along as usual,</div>
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shouting and hissing</div>
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toward the future</div>
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turning its back</div>
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with every tide on the past,</div>
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leaving the shore littered</div>
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every morning</div>
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with more ornaments of death—</div>
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what a pearly rubble</div>
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From which to choose a house</div>
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like a white flower—</div>
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and what a rebellion</div>
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to leap into it</div>
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and hold on,</div>
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connecting everything,</div>
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the past to the future—</div>
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which is of course the miracle—</div>
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which is the only argument there is</div>
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against the sea</div>
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~Mary Oliver - House of Light</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-16314277855850206252014-02-20T05:19:00.000-08:002014-03-22T23:59:49.984-07:00Pealing Potatoes For Inspiration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I will start this tale with once upon an evening of pealing potatoes for dinner...</div>
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Lo and behold the majestic hippocomp that sparked my imagination...</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The mythological creature was often depicted as a fabulous fish-tailed horse. The hippocomp were the mounts of Nereid nymph and sea-gods. In art they were often covered with green scales and had fish-fin manes and appendages.</span></div>
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The ancients believed the mythological creatures were the adult-form of the sea-horse fish.<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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I have been always fascinated by the sea-horse fish, especially by the amazing fact that unlike <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">any other species, the males become pregnant!!</span></div>
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So With a potato skin in mind and a pencil in hand I sat out to draw my own vision of the mythological creature.</div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Here it is.. My vision of the magnificent creature... Floating in the emptiness of a blank page with an airy mer-child peaking through its brood pouch, forever </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">reaching beyond dreams...</span></div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-8180300302122708412014-02-06T05:26:00.000-08:002014-03-22T23:59:23.490-07:00A Walk In The Mist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The mist one morning came creeping in..</div>
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World in white haze is all bellowed and curled..</div>
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And trees are half way hidden and half way in sight</div>
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Clinging dew...</div>
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Or scattered pearls</div>
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When one shape ends...</div>
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Another begins</div>
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And something brewing...</div>
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And about to begin...</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-26815061942841340942013-12-31T21:45:00.001-08:002014-03-22T23:58:55.401-07:00The Miracle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Miracelous white lace gently fell from the sky and covered my desert land in a white blanket of snow.. For the first time in 122 years!</div>
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Snow was a far fitched dream for a desert man like me</div>
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And so with eyes full of wonder, heart over joyed and hands full of fluffy snow.. I builtmy firsts snow man.</div>
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Wishing you all a cosy warm wintertime and splendid new year, may it fill your eyes and heart with magic, dreams and unexpected wonders.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-68718551779782663362013-11-03T22:21:00.000-08:002013-11-03T22:21:33.424-08:00Chiseles, Knives And The Box Of Little Wooden Heads<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Underneath my drawing table there was a certain wooden box, it laid there for years forgotten until one day I moved it's dust covered led...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQm6U6s8b6I_Hi5U39y6pwsD-s1ROAuOXMAIpzQtU8hBaDwFzXKl9u6BIHif4pY4l5yHrTkgwImyv9XashTEbftAA_c85zPObNi2iNyaKXEkSIp6UsEtX6QJlNS9n_LiF91Y7KehfKGw/s1600/WoodenBoxWoodenHeads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQm6U6s8b6I_Hi5U39y6pwsD-s1ROAuOXMAIpzQtU8hBaDwFzXKl9u6BIHif4pY4l5yHrTkgwImyv9XashTEbftAA_c85zPObNi2iNyaKXEkSIp6UsEtX6QJlNS9n_LiF91Y7KehfKGw/s400/WoodenBoxWoodenHeads.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Inside I found my chisels and carving knives wrapped up in neglect, once were busy now in stealth a mere trap for dust.. and blocks of wood and wooden heads, a work in progress that never saw a ray of light.. different ingredients to create magic, different recipes to make art.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6lAq62q_GDBbGb5h3GPpBjIY3lePC5VpF6OjCbNHJ50hLHG5lvTa3qtBgiTBrxPJ0rvx3x7J3HoenF7w5NGXDosJdRsQBZupxXkaupPWdCmDpopu65O4xY11UfbLWQae9p8TYzuXBQY/s1600/Chisels&Knives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6lAq62q_GDBbGb5h3GPpBjIY3lePC5VpF6OjCbNHJ50hLHG5lvTa3qtBgiTBrxPJ0rvx3x7J3HoenF7w5NGXDosJdRsQBZupxXkaupPWdCmDpopu65O4xY11UfbLWQae9p8TYzuXBQY/s400/Chisels&Knives.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Four years ago, I first laid hands on these chisels and knives and carved away a little piece of old cracked wood, clueless as I was at the time, and without a pattern or guide, my first carving emerged, my first little wooden head... It was the start of something new, and my passion for carving and wood work grew.... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNVIdjdKGqgiEmhn_tRV1di5qs-fQPHNXMxOOI4IFn0vo0aJLSMdZnjqcl_j8MnL-4DgPPmdEn5E1jaktLAIPvLSgcBIUTljS1JKo5eFRcGjMkdLfDRvd9pcQyOJFPhSYk3OdkyaWkyc/s1600/LittleWoodenHead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTNVIdjdKGqgiEmhn_tRV1di5qs-fQPHNXMxOOI4IFn0vo0aJLSMdZnjqcl_j8MnL-4DgPPmdEn5E1jaktLAIPvLSgcBIUTljS1JKo5eFRcGjMkdLfDRvd9pcQyOJFPhSYk3OdkyaWkyc/s400/LittleWoodenHead.jpg" width="397" /></a></div>
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Oh, how I love the wood aroma when I carve, how I love being immersed in wood shavings and saw dust, but most of all the joy I find when giving life to an old piece of cracked wood.</div>
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I still have a lot to learn but I'm determined.</div>
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So after years of hesitation last night I held my chisels and knifes, for hours that felt like minutes and with no plan of guide I carved away a block of wood... </div>
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until a wooden-button-nosed-egg emerged... I wonder what egg-white-yellow-yolk-stories lurking in its shell... waiting to be heard, waiting to be told.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-71666910891168244192013-09-30T12:52:00.000-07:002013-10-01T03:19:55.770-07:00Master Haroon's Miraculous Benefits<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Let me tell you of the last of the legends of the Cretan Woman house, the tale of the beneficent Saint Haroon al-Husseini, son of the Prophet's grandson, who was slain at Kerbela and whose blessed head still rests in the midst of Bait Al-kretliya.</div>
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During the reign of the Fatimites, with much state in procession, they brought the body of master Haroon to Cairo, and buried him in Bait Al-Kretliya, where a tomb had been made ready to harbor him and where those good people of Al-kretly family who once lived in this house, rejoiced to have in their midst and keep in their care such a cherished and blessed relic, and under a domed tomb; he has lain ever since bringing peace to the place and miraculous benefits to those who dwell in this house.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEiWQ59izRZCesvsRiCCwt0Hs85YBDsqwSJ2Kcgt2RainKSevQAiTg0iOC8A-bCBQT4Epu9zh58KcbQm3L6n-rhka_U5xnbCDkgZCmTh7aUgNZlduLS0Lzb2Ru_MM_C9RMBZUEYKtSQc/s1600/MasterHaroon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEiWQ59izRZCesvsRiCCwt0Hs85YBDsqwSJ2Kcgt2RainKSevQAiTg0iOC8A-bCBQT4Epu9zh58KcbQm3L6n-rhka_U5xnbCDkgZCmTh7aUgNZlduLS0Lzb2Ru_MM_C9RMBZUEYKtSQc/s400/MasterHaroon.jpg" width="395" /></a></div>
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For example, when a young child of the house was playing in the court, stretched out his hands in his innocence to caress a mad dog that had entered by chance, the saint's unseen hands caught him up by the hair of his head out of harm's way, and once when a child fell by ill-chance from the roof from high above the tomb of Master Haroon, and under the condition would have been killed for sure, but in this case he was hung, suspended by the breath of the saint, in mid air and was let down so lightly that not a bone in his body was broken nor any hurt came to him.<br />
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One, moreover, the saint appeared to a young woman in the house who, at night, seeing a light in the <i>qa'ah</i>, peeped in through a chink in the door and beheld there a young man who, with others, conducted <i>zikr</i> and again, though there were no lamps in the room, the place was illumined by light shining from the young man, and he said to her-although she was not in the room with him but without-'Fear not, good woman, I make this rhythmic intercession for the recovery of thy husband who is grievously ill.'<br />
Now the woman knew nothing of this, for her husband, was at the time far away on a journey. Yet it proved just as the Saint had said, the husband recovered and came back to tell her how he had been sick unto death until he saw the Saint in a vision as the woman had seen him, and at the same time as she, and from then on he recovered his strength until he was now stronger than ever before.<br />
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But Perhaps the strangest of all strange happenings has to do with a thief, an evil man who entered the house to rob it. One day when the children of the house were playing on the roof, saw this man as a shadow thrown upon a wall and, in terror thinking this is an <i>afreet</i> and fearing to look round and behold it, the children ran off screaming to tell their mother. By the time she had reassured the children and come back to see what was amiss, behold, an ill-looking man was there who groped his way through daylight, and she perceived at one that this was no ghost but a blind man who could not harm anyone.At that the children ran towards him and. striking him with their fists and small sticks and called out in derision 'Bad man, what do you here?'</div>
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To all this he made no resistance but only threw up his arms and cried with many tears, saying 'I am indeed a thief and came here to steal but I have been struck blind by some unseen power.' Thereupon the mother silenced the children while she caused food and drinks to be brought for the man, who was too weak to say more. After he had drunk and eaten he greatly revived and recounted his story.<br />
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He told how he entered the house unobserved between dusk and dark while the door was unguarded, three days before as he judged it, for he could tell night from day only by the sounds in the house; how, creeping into <i>hareem </i>with intent to lay hands on what jewels he could find, he had hidden there til midnight before venturing forth; how, scarce had he come into the room where the women lay sleeping than a bright light shone forth intensely and, wherever he looked, it was there, burning his eyes till it blinded him; how, in affright, he had then felt his way to the door bust since he could no longer see nor judge daylight from darkness, he had lost himself in the house and knew not whither he went; how he had hidden for those three days in a chests and in cupboards with nothing to eat or to drink, and by night he groped stealthily about, unable to find either food or his way out of the house, even though empty-handed, so that now he was well-night dead from hunger and thirst and weakness.</div>
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It was of course, the protective presence and power of Saint Haroon that had confused and afflicted him thus, though the Saint himself did not appear. On hearing all this the mother, a kind and compassionate woman, was moved in her pity to say, 'Oh thief, if our Saint hath seen fit to smite thee thus blind for thy sins, nought then remains for me to do but to pardon thy thee. Therefore go now and take this coin in thy wallet to meet thy needs and come no more.' With this benediction she led him to the door of the house and dismissed him.</div>
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So that it was that he who had come to steal went away empty-handed but for the mother's alms, being thus both rewarded and punished for what he had set out to do but had failed to accomplish, thanks for the good benefits of Saint Haroon. Nor did the thief ever recover his sight, for his life had been evil and this affliction which had thus been laid upon him was just.For long thereafter he dwelt in these parts as a blind bigger who had once been a rich man; for, seeing him helpless, his women and accomplices forsook him and divided up between them all he had amassed by his cunning. Thus he was left penniless, an object of pity and warning to others; for t hose of the neighborhood would point him out to strangers and tell them the tale I have told you.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-18715072626118201672013-09-06T06:24:00.000-07:002014-01-13T03:08:52.056-08:00The Enamored Well<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj561GGU91LuTEVoyDiTKyV-lI1MFKKfefWLjGPgsWJFG9VmbEiQ6D_GC40MlSjK6NeruveW64kyCIUT5a8i3ZIrOMGUx7b3nbeIPvl4ddUTG0EUji1aQpiRmkyfIPXt8HtJQqnlJX3HXU/s1600/TheWellOfBats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj561GGU91LuTEVoyDiTKyV-lI1MFKKfefWLjGPgsWJFG9VmbEiQ6D_GC40MlSjK6NeruveW64kyCIUT5a8i3ZIrOMGUx7b3nbeIPvl4ddUTG0EUji1aQpiRmkyfIPXt8HtJQqnlJX3HXU/s400/TheWellOfBats.jpg" height="297" width="400"></a></div>
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If thou be maiden without stain</div>
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Or lad till now unversed in love,</div>
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That yet no knife has cut or fire burnt,</div>
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Nor dog has bit, then not in vain</div>
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To this old well-head turn and look within,</div>
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And down a little pebble throw;</div>
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At the night's noon, that milk-white hour</div>
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When the moon full-grown,</div>
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Doth ride through heaven like a houri fair</div>
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In her full loveliness,</div>
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And when the troubled circles cease</div>
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If in the mirror thou shalt see</div>
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The face of one look'st up to thee</div>
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As thou at it look'st down,</div>
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Then know for sure thy true love's face,</div>
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This magic well reveals to thee.</div>
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I shall tell you a tale of love with which the magic Well of the Bats has much to do. Know then that once upon a time, long ago, there lived in the Bait al-kertliya a rich, widowed lady with her daughter Lutfiya, a maiden as fair as a full moon and simple and sweet as a flower. At the same time there dwelt in a house over the way a handsome youth called Ameen, like Lutfiya that only child of his mother, who was also a widow.<br>
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Now, much to both parents regret, their young ones showed no desire to marry, being yet scarce acquainted with love and cautious by nature. Having heard of each others loveliness and yet how averse to be wed, the young ones interest was aroused, Lutfiya found herself deeply in love with her vision of Ameen just as he was with his fancy of her. All day Ameen would sit thus, gazing out through the <i>mashrabiya</i> at the house over the way, watching and waiting, but no door opened, nor even a window though indeed, unknown to him, Lutfiya, even as he, was all the while peeping through a chink in the hope that she might spy young Ameen. Thus sat they, sighing these two, each unknown to the other.<br>
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Now one day Lutifiya, after some hesitation, arose and, pulling a shawl that was by her over her head. Across the court-yard she ran to the well in the corner, the Well of the Bats, that magic well of which I have told you how, in the days of old Noah when the Ark was stranded here on hill <i>Yushkur</i>, the last waters of the Flood subsided into its depth, endowing them with miraculous and amorous powers. and the Sultan of the Dijnn who resides amid his treasure at the depth within this well.<br>
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Now Lutifiya had head those legends and, for that reason, had always been frightened of the well so that she could scarce bring herself to look down into it, half hoping as she did, yet half fearing to see, as many had told her she might, her lover's reflection therein. On this occasion, though frightened as ever, she none the less could not resist hastily looking down into the well-shaft, for she hoped to see Ameen gazing up at her. But no such sight met her eyes, for as she looked down, lo and behold! those waters that reflected her own face awoke and were agitated because of the beauty cast upon them and, becoming enamored for her loveliness, they rose and swelled up till they filled the whole shaft of the well to the very top and then they flowed over. Now indeed was Lutifiya alarmed, as well she might be, for the waters began to embrace her feet! With a cry, she turned to escape and, she ran, her shawl fell from her head on to her shoulder. Cross the court she ran, out into the street.<br>
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Ameen was gazing, as he become his wont, out through the lattice of a window, when all of a sudden he saw the great eastern door of Bait al-Kretliya thrown open, and out ran a maiden, frightened and he saw how the waves kissed her feet as she ran.<br>
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Ameen hurried down and reached the street in time to see Lutifya turn the corner of the wall of Ibn Tulun mosque that stands adjacent to the Bait al-Kretliya, moving as if her feet are not touching the ground and by the time she reached the spiral minaret, Lutifya was above the ground. Tiny fingers, sharp like claws, carried her to safety. Her body was lifted up high towards the top of the spiral minaret above the raging flood, unable to catch its prey, on rushed these waters, mad with desire, tumbling over and over till they came to the foot of the hill and were lost in the Khalig, the ancient canal that flowed through Cairo in those days and into the great River Nile.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br>
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When Ameen reached the base of the minaret he could only hear a muffled voice coming from beyond the spiral minaret, from the direction of the great River Nile. One word calling again and again, until it faded away and he can no longer hear anything: "Lutfiya, Lutfiya."<br>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-34778089693774119802013-06-22T00:11:00.000-07:002013-10-16T19:55:04.151-07:00Sultan al-Watawit & The Secret Chamber<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This ancient Well under the arch in a corner of the court of <a href="http://khushushban.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-house-of-cretan-woman.html" target="_blank">the Bait al-Kretliya</a>, now little used and little considered, was once famous far and wide. So much was this the case that the road leading uphill to the House and the Mosque is still called 'The Way to the Well of Bats,' which is still writ up in order to direct all who wish to visit this famous well; and they were many in the olden days, for its waters have always been known to possess magical and beneficent properties; and that is hardly to be wondered at, since they flowed into this shaft from the Great Flood as it subsided, and left Noah's ark stranded on this hill of Yashkur.</div>
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Yes, the Well had long been renowned for the many cures it has wrought, lovers it has served, and countless strange happenings concerning it which have taken place in the Bait al-Kretliya. But above all, it is renowned as the haunt and home of Sultan al-Watawit, the King of the Jinn, who inhabits a palace within it with his seven fair daughters amidst vast treasures which are guarded by his magic.This explains why, at the Sultan's demand, the Bait al-Kretliya was built round the magic well, instead of a shaft being sunk in the midst of the house as was the usual procedure. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy_F0in0_z7Y2aSafxO5pnwxGthpCms80Mbrg6txFO4k2sEydK8614Iwuv870HiPxMKayV1B_kD87lIHQ7SowFHJQyVbCQOeHoF7hVQmIaWrSMP9jovgtu7uQ6hYNZdt-fI6-CZOVDOQ/s1600/WellOfBats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYy_F0in0_z7Y2aSafxO5pnwxGthpCms80Mbrg6txFO4k2sEydK8614Iwuv870HiPxMKayV1B_kD87lIHQ7SowFHJQyVbCQOeHoF7hVQmIaWrSMP9jovgtu7uQ6hYNZdt-fI6-CZOVDOQ/s320/WellOfBats.jpg" width="320" /></a>The Sultan is still in his palace and his seven fair daughters-in another version of the story it is seven sons- lie around him under a spell, each in her golden bed; and all so fast asleep that if any intrude and arouse them they hardly stir, but murmur, 'Take all you will and leave us to our slumbers.' Their father guards them-and his treasure-by his sorceries, changing himself at times into a bat, a shape he assumes at will, in which guise he may sometimes be seen of an evening to enter or leave the mouth of the well. All that closely guarded treasure remains still for the finding, but it is by no means easy to come by, for very many have tried but so far no one has succeeded.<br />
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Some of those who have set out on that venture have never returned, but were either lost in perdition or chose to abide where they found themselves. And, strange though as it may sound, the good King of the Djinn sometimes helps the wives or the widows of those who have not returned from the venture of seeking to rob him, should they be needy, and he does it in the following manner. He sees to it that, now and again, when such a one lowers her bucket into the well, a coin of gold or silver is dropped into it for her to recover.<br />
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Though, as I say, no one so far has come by this treasure, it is well known through the writing in magical books how best to obtain it. First of all, well provided with rope, rations, a lantern, and all else that such a venture may need, and not forgetting the holly book and to commend yourself to God's care, you are lowered on the end of a rope to where the shaft opens out at the water's level into a chamber. From the east and west of this space issue two hidden passages, and at the entrance stands an<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ifrit" target="_blank"> </a><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ifrit" target="_blank">Ifrit </a></i>who works a <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadoof" target="_blank">shadoof</a>, </i>lifting water out of the well and pouring it down these two inclined ways, one of which leads to the palace of the Sultan and the treasure, the other to an unknown bottomless pit of destruction.<br />
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Now which is which of these two passages no one can tell, save by divination, divine intuition or by some sorcerer's spell. Yet on the choice of direction depends whether the seeker shall survive and emerge a rich man, or fall and disappear entirely, never again to be seen or heard of: for so steep are the two paths, and so slippery, that once started on either one cannot stop.</div>
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Before setting out on this adventures one must also learn, through sorcery, not only which way to turn at the well's end but also the magical word that shall open the door of the palace if one gets there, for it is locked and sealed with Solomon's seal.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Though it is the primary conjunction in Arabic, the letter waw "و", never connects to the letter following it)</span></div>
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There were also various secret reasons which caused the Sultan to remain for long in league with al-Kretlie family, to whom he gave much gold as a reward, and this they stored away in a secret chamber under the floor of the<i> hareem</i>, a procedure that resulted in a catastrophe to al-Kretlie family. When Agha Saleem al-Kretli who lived in Bait al-Kretliya long ago, though a pious man, was avaricious for gold, had made a pact with the Sultan al-Watawit concerning some secret matter of great import, and for his help in the affair the Sultan paid him vast sums in the form of gold-dust which he drew up in a bucket from the bottom of the well and stored it away in the secret chamber under the floor of the<i> hareem</i>. and if any of the women would ask what he was hiding there, he would say 'it's only <i>tibn</i>, chaff for the donkey to eat, for the bins are full in the stable below.'<br />
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All things went well, and the secret chamber was nigh filled with the yellow dust when, alas! Agha Saleem took to him a new wife,and one day, while he was away on a journey, his new wife called out the serving maids and ordered them to clear the secret chamber of all donkey chaff. After considerable labor, with shovel and basket, they left not one speck in the<i> </i>secret chamber, for they had thrown out of the window the gold dust into the street below where it was swept, trod and lost forever and ever.<br />
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When Agha Saleem returned from his journey and after he learned what had happened to his precious gold-dust he cried in horror 'My golden <i>tibn</i>, My gold!' And those were the last words he ever spoke, for there on the spot he was struck dumb! Some say it was by the Sultan al-Watawit, lest his secret be given away. Be that it may, the power of his limbs also forsook him, so that he could but lie abed with out speech.<br />
The Agha Saleem never recovered. He withered way and soon afterwards died.<br />
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They say too. that the Sultan al-Watawit, in his anger at the waste of all the good gold, smote also the young wife, widowed now, with a lingering illness from which she, too never recovered. Ever since then, even up to our own times, in order to propitiate him and obtain his good office, women in these parts are accustomed to cast offerings to the Jinn through the trap-door into the secret chamber, now empty, which once was brim-full of pure gold.<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-56126653417646941522013-03-27T21:46:00.001-07:002013-09-06T08:55:38.252-07:00The Benevolent Serpent<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>"In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful. Listen now, oh honoured friend, I shall begin these Legends concerning this ancient <a href="http://khushushban.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-house-of-cretan-woman.html" target="_blank">House of the Kretliya</a> which belonged to my Family, and in which I was born and my fathers before me. For e</i><i>very ancient house, and this one even more than most, has strange legends attached to it which, though of the past, are yet kept in mind from generation to generation." </i>~Sheikh Suliman - Legends of the House of the Cretan Woman</div>
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This tale tells of a snake, a benevolent serpent, that inhabits the house of the Cretan woman and has always done so, for such serpents dwell only in those houses that are especially favoured, as this one is, by God's blessing.<br />
Such snakes are guardians that keep the house in their care, allowing no other reptile to enter, nor evil to harbour within its walls, so that those who live in the house need have no fear of Djinn or Afreet and may sleep, if they will, with their doors left unlocked.<br />
Now, though this benevolent serpent comes not forth save at night or in secret and is therefore seldom observed, its young, in their folly, may sometimes adventure, as you will learn from what I am about to tell you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPuQ0xsAY7Vu4Yw-PPP38EK56qWtASMf7e-EUOhCeWPp8sWQ-5aJ3Xsy1OB14ZUqlrfsMsFSVxpWaj-3AD8qEjhthiSH3qv9e3JSnV3fMB3Ixsep1VgBbL4DQ6jMVoJfEeBY1KzsL59E/s1600/BenevolentSerpent3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMPuQ0xsAY7Vu4Yw-PPP38EK56qWtASMf7e-EUOhCeWPp8sWQ-5aJ3Xsy1OB14ZUqlrfsMsFSVxpWaj-3AD8qEjhthiSH3qv9e3JSnV3fMB3Ixsep1VgBbL4DQ6jMVoJfEeBY1KzsL59E/s400/BenevolentSerpent3.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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Once long ago, there lived in the Bait al-Kretliya, a devout and pious man, the Hagg Mohammed, whose children, two little boys, playing together one day in the court-yard, spied two of the young of our benevolent serpent as they ventured out of their hiding. Thereupon these little boys greatly delighted, pounced on the small snakes, each seizing one and acing tied a string round its belly, took it for his own as plaything, unaware in their innocence of the harm they did or the danger they ran. Anon the good parent snake, coming back to her lair from whence she had issued, found her little ones done and, in much agitation, she hastened to search for them, peering this way and that till very soon she perceived what has happened and that her young ones were now in the hands of their captors, the two little boys of the house. At that, swollen with rage and blind to all else save revenge, she sought out the cupboard where the drinking water is stored in a great <i>Zeer </i>(earthen-ware vessel), and into this jar she spat out her venom and so poisoned that water that anyone drinking thereof must surely die.<br />
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Hardly had she done this that good pious man, the Hagg Mohammed, who had been out about some business , returned and, seeing his sons playing each with a little serpent tied by a string around its belly, was greatly alarmed and cried out: 'What in God's name are you doing, O wicked ones? Shame on you! Do you not know you have each made captive a little one of our patron, our protector, our benevolent serpent, without whose blessing that house would surely be desolate? In the name of the Prophet, release your victims at once ere great harm befall you and all of us.'<br />
Thereupon each of those children hung his head much ashamed and affrighted and, hastily obeying his father freed the young reptile he has made captive, which then wriggled off to his cranny none the worse for the adventure.<br />
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Now when the good parent-snake, the benevolent serpent who all this time had been lurking nearby, overheard what this pious man said and observed how, in obedience, his little sons had st once released her offspring uninjured, and when she realized that neither the Sheikh nor his sons meant any harm, he anger subsided forthwith and, full of remorse for what she had done to poison their drinking water, she was greatly concerned how to avert the evil that threatened. And Anon her anxiety was greatly increased for she heard the master call out to serving-maid, 'Go, Aisha, fetch me a cup of cold water from the <i>Zeer,' </i>it then being the heat of the summer.<br />
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Filled now with immediate alarm on behalf the Hagg Mohammed, the benevolent serpent knew not which way to turn now what best to do till, she was prompted so that, hastening off once again to the cupboard where the water was kept, she wound herself around the great <i>Zeer </i>that was full of it and drew herself tighter and tighter about the vessel till at last it broke and fell asunder with much splash and clatter.<br />
Into nine and ninety pieces was that water jar splintered-for the Hagg Mohammed counted them one and all afterwards-and the water gushed out and was spilt harmlessly on the floor so that no ill to any came of it.<br />
Then off glided that benevolent serpent back to her hiding place, well pleased at having contrived to avert so great catastrophe, with the serving-maid who had come at that very moment to the <i>Zeer</i>-cupboard to fetch her master the drink he had called for, hearing the clatter ad seeing water spilt out and flowing away without a cause, so it seemed to her, ran off herself with a cry of alarm to tell everyone what has happened; and she was greatly afraid, as indeed who would not have been? For she though an Afreet or Djinn to be the cause of so strange an occurrence.<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-60572261677770044262013-01-16T00:10:00.001-08:002013-06-21T14:11:19.101-07:00The House of the Cretan Woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Long ago and right now, in one of the oldest quarters of Cairo, on top of the hill Yashkur, there it stood, the fascinating ninth century mosque of Ibn Tulun and it's unique spiral minaret.</div>
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For hundreds of years the area around the mosque of Ibn Tulun was one of the busiest quarters of Cairo, It was there that caravans and traders came to unload exotic spices and strange cargo from the Far East and Africa, the narrow ally way and stone court yard were alive with sights and smiles of a thriving commercial district. </div>
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The area fell in hard times, houses were abandoned, fill into decay, and were then destroyed , save one house clinging into the walls of the mosque remained,</div>
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The House of the Cretan Woman - Bait al-Kretliya.</div>
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The immediate physical proximity of Bait al-Kretliya to The Mosque of Ibn Tulun is paralleled by a mythic connection that is recorded in a once popular now forgotten legends and myths.</div>
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<i>"when Ibn Tulun was building his mosque, a genie appeared to him and showed him a treasure that he devoted completely to building the mosque. He proceeded to build it with his own hands working along side the laborers until he became known as the Sultan Of Bricklayers. The rest of the gold from this miraculous treasure remains to this day in a haunted passageway, long forgotten and neglected, that runs from the Bait al-Kretliya under the mosque."</i></div>
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The legendary house of the Cretan woman is in fact a two sixteenth century houses, Beit el-Kretliya from 1632 and Beit Amna Bent Salim from 1540, linked together with a bridge on the third floor, framing a gate way to the mosque. </div>
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The house was repeated to be haunted by djinn, djinn which either could be good or bad spirits featured extensively in Arabic folklore.</div>
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they said to particularly like living inside watery places such as wells and were in past feared for their abilities to posses humans .</div>
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<i>"It said that the House of Cretan Women is built around the Well of the Bats - which has been here since the days of Noah's flood - and that it was the King of the djinn the Sultan of Bats who advised my ancestors on this place so that the house may protect the well where he and his seven daughters sleep around their magical golden treasure which has cost the lives of those who were tempted to find it. Playing on the parody of greed, the well is said to have compensated their families over the years by placing gold coins in the water bucket." </i></div>
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The history of the house as well as those joined to it is rather unique.In 1930's the house became the home of Major Gayer-Anderson, an eccentric retired English doctor and art collector, who collected and translated the stories and the myths from Sheikh Suleiman, the last head of the Kretli family and guardian of the Saint's Harun tomb that flanks the house. </div>
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<i>"Ages ago, the rulers of Egypt were the Fatimid Caliphs, who built Cairo, they had brought the body of our master Harun-son of the prophet's grandson al-Hasan. They buried it under a tomb adjacent to the house. It is known and Harun's Tomb - The guardian of the neighborhood and whose benefices still protect the people." </i></div>
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Mysticism has colluded over time with pop culture, often clashing with historical and geographical facts, to describe the hill of Yashkur as a holy site. Legend has it that not only was it here that Abraham was ordered by God to sacrifice his son but that it was the port where Noah's Ark came to port following its tempestuous journey. It is also said that it was there that Moses first spoke to God, and had his famous staff turned into a giant snake. All of this provided Ibn Toulun with enough reason to build his huge mosque there. The house is a living legend in itself, with a chamber of secrets, a lovers well, the snake of the house, the good spirit of Sheikh Harun, the djinn King of bats and his seven daughters and a hidden treasure of gold.. it is the house of Scheherazade.</div>
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Anderson commissioned a local artisan, the unique Abdl al-Aziz Abdu, commonly known as "Abu Shanab" ("Father of Mustachios" ) to create a series of illustrations on copper plates to depict each of the fourteen legends, and published the stories together with these illustration and his own description of the house, in a small edition in England is now long out of print. <span style="text-align: left;">The original illustrations of the Legends of the House of the Cretan Woman by Abd al-Aziz Abdu are bound </span>in an album now in the possession of the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.</div>
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"<i>When Abd al-Aziz heard that I intended to make a book of the Legends with his design as illustrations, he drew and engraved another design and presented the drawing and plate to me as a surprise backsheeh (tip). This drawing I have included as a headpiece to the Legends. It is a portrait group of the three colaborators, each plainly labelled, Sheikh Sulaiman, Abd al-Aziz, and myself with my beloved Dachshund "Fadle Effendi" ("Make yourself at home, sir".)" </i><span style="text-align: center;">~R.G Gayer-Anderson Pasha</span></div>
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Major Gayer-Anderson furnished the house with a remarkable vast array of different items from various historical periods collection of Oriental furniture, glassware, crystal, carpets, silks, and embroidered Arab costumes. </div>
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He also collected beautiful works of art from Turkey, Persia, Syria, and other Oriental locations which he installed into the house, turning his house into a historical treasure. In 1945 Gayer-Anderson died equating everything for the Egyptian people, and the house had turned into a museum ever since, The Gayer Anderson-Museum.</div>
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The house remains a masterpiece, as do the art collection displayed beneath the gold-plated wooden ceilings, which were made 300 years ago by the hands of skillful determined craftsmen.The house consists of extraordinary 22 rooms medieval in origin, and laid out like an interlocking puzzle. I will take you by the hand through some of my favorite parts of the house and wander through it's jogging corridors, split level chambers, winding staircases and disguised rooms.</div>
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Usually when one goes to a museum, the displays are in glass cases with the explanation under it. In the Gayer Anderson Museum, one just walks about gazing at the displays and feels like a part of the history of the place itself. </div>
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Maybe this is because the house, including the ceilings, the walls, the corridors, the cupboards and the doors are among the most interesting displays. Or maybe because the museum was once a house and people once lived here at many times.</div>
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Drifting through arched stone gateway, there is a small corridor that takes one to the open air hall in the ground floor of the house, in one corner you will find my favorite part of the house, a well credited with magical powers and is known as the "Well Of Bats".</div>
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<i>"Ye pure of heart and spiritually clean</i></div>
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<i>Now when the moon shines full and clear</i></div>
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<i><span style="text-align: left;">Approach</span> this ancient well and lean</i></div>
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<i>Over it listening. Ye shall hear</i></div>
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<i>God's echoed word by angels sung</i></div>
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<i>Float up to you in cadence fair,</i></div>
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<i>Like pearls of blessing deftly strung</i></div>
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<i>On unseen filaments of air."</i></div>
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The open air hall is rather amazing as one can see most of the balconies of the house above and the old walls with the Islamic decorations on them. once it used to host trades and business gatherings, now all that remains is an array of ancient scales, the legend has it they once were used to weight gold dust, gift from the king of djinn sultan of Bats</div>
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There's also a big wooden box that is connected with a strong rope. It was used to transfer food and water from stores of the house, much like an old dumbwaiter.</div>
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The next room is the main Sabil room, Sabil is part of the Islamic culture, in the past provided people who pass by to drink water on hot days. Usually these Sabils are connected to a school or a mosque. But here it is connected to the Gayer Anderson house and dates to 1631. The wooden ceiling, which is gold plated with Qura'an verses, is well preserved. Here, where the brass plates, work of Abu Shanab depicting all 14 legends of the house are on display, such as the landing of Noah's Ark plate. </div>
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On display there's also the plates of "Taset el-Khada", which is a famous Egyptian legend. Such plates are usually made of brass or silver and have magical words and certain verses of the Qura'an written inside them. Someone who is ill would fill the plate with milk and water and leave it on the balcony overnight. It was believed that a part of the sky would come and mix with the milk and water. In the morning the sick person would drink this from the plate and be cured.</div>
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The first Salamlek- a place reserved for men- is quite impressive, with mashrabeya windows and amazing ceiling and walls with Persian decorations.There's an alabaster table with Qura'an verses written on the circular edges, colorful boxes that were used to keep valuables and tobacco and the largest smoking pipes I have ever seen. </div>
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The summer Salamlek room. with two sofas opposite each other in a well decorated balcony that overlooks the open air hall. In the middle there are beautiful brass tables with Qura'an and Islamic decorations. There were also some small, ornate wooden chairs. This balcony is alive. I can imagine the people who were sitting there long ago and the stories they shared on a summer afternoon.</div>
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I journeyed through a corridors that leads to the Haramlek. The Haramlek was an area reserved for women. The word "Haramlek" is derived from the word "Hareem" which can be translated as women in Arabic. </div>
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A big room full of jewelry boxes and Mashrabiya screens designed for women to watch from the windows without being seen from outside. </div>
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There are many multicolored sofas, chairs, tables and closets most of them are acquired by Gayer Anderson from India and Persia.</div>
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On the third floor, there is the writing room of Anderon. In the entrance of the room,there are powerful ghostly white masks with hollow eyes that Anderson made of himself and his family. </div>
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I imagine Bast, the cat, which was found in the area of Saqara, kept all these years near Gayer-Anderson’s desk, </div>
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watching him writing his diary on his corona typewriter.</div>
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The walls here are full of many beautiful and some what haunting photographs of Gayer Anderson and his family and a drawing of his beloved dog Fadl Effendi.</div>
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beautifully embedded tales on the walls..</div>
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surrounding the well of winding stairs leading up to...</div>
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the roof terrace, its edges fenced by mashrabiya screens rescued from demolished houses, Their shadows reflected on the walls and the floors, creating an unforgettable contrast between light and dark.</div>
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There are a number of displays on the walls, Ottoman-era marbles basins and sink backs, sundial made of tile. used in the year 1273 to tell the times for prayers. And the oldest set of modern water taps and sinks I have ever seen. Next to the walls of the roof, there are big containers that were used to keep oil, food and other supplies for the house.</div>
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From here, we will take the bridge that Gayer Anderson built between the two houses over to the second house.Where you will find a museum within this museum.</div>
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One of the rooms contains a wonderful statue of Queen Nefertiti's head, placed in front of a Mashrabeya screen. when the sun light penetrate the wooden structure it illuminate the face of the beautiful queen, in a magical moment you might think the queen will speak.</div>
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In the middle of the room there is the replica statue of Bastet, and to the right of the door, there is a quirky black mummy cover and cabinets full of old clocks among many treasures,</div>
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and a huge ostrich egg engraved with topographical scenes of Egypt, which can be rotated by means of a little handle on top.</div>
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Gayer Anderson's was very interested in art and culture, and indeed, his library is impressive. </div>
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There are shelves with many books, locked behind glass doors where their amber pages brimming with knowledge had turned into a mere display, yet for curious eyes they will sing of names and titles embedded on their spines.</div>
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there is a fascinating drawing of Gayer Anderson which is claimed to portrait him as The Sphinx, lacking the distinctive features of The Sphinx and without the crown, I personally believe it to be a self portrait of Anderson in a traditional pharaonic headdress!</div>
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My favorite item in this house is pinned to a heavy wooden door, a beautiful door knocker that was made especially for the house on the shape of a small black angel holding symbols attached to a silver plate with the inscription of this beautiful verse: </div>
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<i>"when love knocks the door, life walks in."</i></div>
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the most amazing room of the house is Damascus room which was one of Gayer Anderson's bed rooms. The bed is wooden with Islamic decorations all around it. The walls and ceiling unlike any walls I have ever seen. covered in intricate low-relief patterns of lacquer and gold ceiling covered with painted wooden panels acquired from the 17th Century house in the Syrian capital. They were designed to seem as if they are doors to somewhere else, another liminal place perhaps? </div>
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There's another Haramlek with a curious wooden jewelry cupboard. when you move the cupboard, it will reveal a secret doorway! The doorway leads to a very narrow corridor with Mashrabeya windows to the right and some wooden chairs to the left. It was used by women to watch what was going on in the celebration hall without being seen by anyone.</div>
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The big celebration hall was once used for wedding celebrations. There is a chair for the bride to the right and a chair for the groom to the left. In the middle of the room there is a fascinating marble fountain. </div>
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The other half of the room consists of a small theater, where the performances of dancers and singers once took place. now it's used to display a huge cabinet where Anderson kept the swords he collected from all over Egypt. The ceiling of the celebration hall is very high because the hall is surrounded with Mashrabeya screens for women to watch from the chambers above the hall.</div>
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The strangest item in this room is a musical instrument in the shape of a small crocodile that once was used like a guitar. </div>
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the second court yard with it's beautiful marble fountain, is right outside the last room in our visit,</div>
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The child birthing room. It has a displays of bracelets and charms that children once wore to protect them, there are also many chairs, some with Qura'an verses written on them, with openings in their seats. Women used to sit on these chairs to give birth to their babies.</div>
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The visit to the Gayer Anderson Museum is like a journey through time. I found this<a href="http://www.3dmekanlar.com/en/gayer-anderson-museum-house.html" target="_blank"> link</a> to a 3D virtual tour of the house which I strongly encourage you to visit.</div>
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Some places capture your soul without a known reason. This was what happened to me when I saw the house for the first time. Maybe this because it is very old and it seems untouched by time or maybe because the whole house is an exceptionally wealthy source of strangeness, tales and myth.</div>
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Every ancient house, and this one even more than most, has strange legends attached to it which, though of the past, are yet kept in mind from generation to generation Soon I shall bring you tales & rhymes along with the imagery I created inspired by some of the legends of the Cretan woman house - a handful of folkloric tales, some are delightful and some are frightening, a glimpse into a landscape where the world of spirits and Djinn is not far away and enchantment is always peering through Mashrabiya screens.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-53275757859293372332013-01-01T00:00:00.001-08:002013-01-02T13:34:13.006-08:00Day Of First & New<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On This day of first and new...</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">I want to thank you all for being here, for continuing to follow my scattered thoughts and scribbles, for your thoughts, encouragement and the kind words you have left in the past years. It really does mean great deal to me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9xFAOOE4afk9lfwuu3T85unJ8xmulMGDb0zhFJt-slfycU-0Fw1Y8U3QX1hItwvXXtz1XP725U64PVblMQCR9oZVe84zvPWH1adq6SusrnzQgecLiid7-Y5gTGKgnDOEzVYuCOELMrA/s1600/First&New.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9xFAOOE4afk9lfwuu3T85unJ8xmulMGDb0zhFJt-slfycU-0Fw1Y8U3QX1hItwvXXtz1XP725U64PVblMQCR9oZVe84zvPWH1adq6SusrnzQgecLiid7-Y5gTGKgnDOEzVYuCOELMrA/s400/First&New.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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I wish you a joyful Wintertime and happy new year full of creative ventures and wonderful adventures.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-34236017057744917852012-12-25T02:37:00.001-08:002013-01-06T03:07:28.136-08:00Melting Hail Stones<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Winter crept on me, and I found myself suddenly standing under heavy clouds blinking at a gray blanketed Winter day!<br />
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I am writing to you with one hand while the other is reaching out collecting pearls of hail stones falling from the sky, soon melting away in my palms like those days spent on the shore of this land.<br />
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I have been loving my days of Dahab, It struck me today that it has been six month since I arrived to this beautiful Bedouin village. Here, I have been spending many early morning..</div>
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Strolling along a promenade, where rusty street lamps stood, mere shadows of their former selves,</div>
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wandering shores strewn with sea garlands</div>
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and sea shells full of sea tales..</div>
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and bird feathers and curious sea treasures.<br />
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I have been climbing the summits of ancient mountains..<br />
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and I found solace in the echoing silence, between mountain peaks and boulders..<br />
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and ancient stories embedded on sharp-edged mountain stones.<br />
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I have been diving to the heart of a deep blue sea..<br />
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when a reach of sunlight fell through its surface..</div>
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a wondrous world was illuminated before me.</div>
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Dahab has been brimming with joyful wonders, alas it's time now to pack and wind my way back, with heavy pockets full of cherished memories and sand, to the edge of the city, to a tiny nook that I call home.<br />
Meeting Dahab was like meeting an old friend, warm and familiar, and so with a promise to come back, I bed you dear old friend-land farewell.<br />
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"Traveling provides occasions for shaking oneself up but not, as people believe, freedom. Indeed it involves a kind of reduction: deprived of one’s usual setting, the customary routine stripped away like to much wrapping paper, the traveler finds himself reduced to more modest proportion – but also more open to curiosity, to intuition, to love at first sight." - Nicolas Bouvier, The Way of the World</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-2742094843786612202012-12-24T22:46:00.002-08:002013-10-24T21:31:21.056-07:00Cat Who Run With The Sheep<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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From mother sheep's milk she was fed</div>
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and a among this herd she peacefully lived..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Haqb6jfHNQgscYwtJ7ZJd6zbSXIo1ew7kgxHWGdM92sKi5QrvpANatXObYl5XoWmIAJySjDHQVe8-CDhvTDADOSeGCG96pd2GQlKYkndLWZ5VrPPXDLW0Pc5xDYa9tv6NPeK6ThHlGQ/s1600/DahbCatSnoozing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Haqb6jfHNQgscYwtJ7ZJd6zbSXIo1ew7kgxHWGdM92sKi5QrvpANatXObYl5XoWmIAJySjDHQVe8-CDhvTDADOSeGCG96pd2GQlKYkndLWZ5VrPPXDLW0Pc5xDYa9tv6NPeK6ThHlGQ/s400/DahbCatSnoozing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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as one of their own.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Mitzi Buys</span></div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-57012001086256858812012-12-16T10:14:00.003-08:002014-01-13T03:11:11.779-08:00Karnetta - The Eight Arms Of Inspiration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the quietness of an early Dahab morning, there's only the sound of calm waves rushing to shore and right into my imagination, I mounted the shoulder blade of a lonely rock sculpted by waves and time and watched the sun whisper first ray of light into the day.</div>
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my vision was filled with shimmering beauty..</div>
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while Eel & Lion fish trotting below my feet like magic...</div>
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when the sun moved higher I dismounted my rock, I walk toward the shore, scattering the golden stream of sunlight reflected on the surface of the sea, I'm enchanted.</div>
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I walked along the shore, by mountains and sea delighting in the beauty and intensity of the landscape</div>
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I passed by a fellow admirer of the new day canvas, unaware of danger lurking beneath..</div>
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below his rock there laid the trickster of the sea, with his eight arms wandering cautiously...</div>
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But alas, this fellow crab was fast and alert, he out ran eight arms of a witty sea trickster and took a fast leap into the sea, leaving a disappointed octopus wondering aimlessly..</div>
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When I went back to my drawing table, I found him waiting for me.. </div>
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with his playful arms wrapped around my rusty wheels on imagination, he managed to make them turn... </div>
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as I was playing with eight arms and possibilities this fluttering fellow paid me a visit, with his critic round eyes he moved through my scribbles, from one arm to the other, wings fluttering -I hope in approval- before he took a flight into the day..</div>
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and all too soon there he was before my eyes, looking back at me with a curious glance..</div>
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delighting in a paper boat, making ripples...</div>
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resting atop a lonely rock by the sea </div>
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while buffer fish float around him like thoughts.</div>
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and just in case you're wondering,</div>
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"karnetta" is the Octopus Bedouin name.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-78154533084782661112012-08-23T10:00:00.001-07:002013-01-09T20:20:40.693-08:00Gold Dream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I felt my soul soaring when the dawn breeze caressed the surface of the vast sea, I dipped my feet into salty cool water and met the winds with open arms. Here, where the sand and sea merge with the skies above, here where giant large mountains embrace a big blue sea<br />
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I will unpack and nestle here for a while, on the shore of Dahab, a Bedouin fishing village by the sea.<br />
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Dahab is Arabic for gold, Some locals attribute the name to the color of the sky, just after sunset. Another local story concerning the town's name is that it stems from the floods that wash through the town every five or six years. Larger than average seasonal storms in the mountains cause a great rush of water to surge down to the sea, dragging with it great amounts of sand. During this time, the town is cut in two by the flood, and the bay is stirred up and the sands turn it a golden yellow. It typically lasts a few days, and has caused damage and loss of life in the past as people were unaware of the sudden onset and the force the water moves at. Today, locals are ready when they see the clouds over the mountains, and anyone lucky enough to witness it will remember it for a long time.</div>
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I'm still amazed at the amount of good this land has shown me and how upon arrival it felt just like home, and so for now I shall rest my weary heart in the arms of the mountain and breath in the many colors of the sea and let it all shape my days. </div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-34344299323021354752012-08-14T14:07:00.003-07:002014-01-13T03:05:09.947-08:00The Khushushban<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Once upon a night lit by oil lamps and candle light, an amber glowing memory of a tale my grandma wove and spun, with threads of magic and wonderment...<br />
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A tale of a very strange enchanted prince, locked within a magical suite, made of logs and wood...</div>
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with two holes to see the world, unable to touch unable to hold</div>
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The rest will be left untold, forgotten or maybe hidden, in the folds of once upon a memory from my child hood, where a tale is waiting to be remembered,<br />
waiting to be retold...<br />
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And just before you wonder or even ask yourself,<br />
this oddity, strangeness, wonder<br />
none but<i> khsuhushban</i> himself.<br />
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"Stories you read when you're at the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you'll forget the precisely what happened, but if the story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever csur." ~Neil Gaiman<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-62980209743157582922012-07-10T09:13:00.000-07:002014-01-13T03:05:19.459-08:00Heavenly Creature<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"I was brought by Al Buraq, which is an animal white and long, larger than a donkey but smaller than a mule, who would place its hoof a distance equal to the range of vision" ~Prophet Muhammad - Al Bukhari, Shahih Al Bukhari<br />
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Al Buraq -driven from the Arabic word "Barq" which means lightning referring to its speed- is a fabulous heavenly creature of Islamic mythology, often pictured as an animal with human head, the prophet Muhammad was said to have ridden on its back from Mecca to Jerusalem and ascended to heaven during an event called Al Isra Wa Al Mi'raj or "The Night Journey".<br />
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The mythology of The Night Journey tells that prophet Muhammad had been in his home city of Mecca and went to Masjid Al Haram. While he was resting at Kaaba, the angel Gabriel appeared accompanied by Al Buraq, the prophet mounted the beast, and in the company of Gabriel, they traveled to Al-Aqsa Mosque (Temple Mount) in Jerusalem, at this location, he dismounted from Al Buraq, prayed and then once again mounted Al Buraq and was ascended to the various heavens, to meet first the earlier prophets and then to meet God, to instruct Muhammad to tell his followers that they were to offer prayers. The Buraq then transported the prophet Muhammad back to Mecca.</div>
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In other stories in Islam Al Buraq was also said to have transported Abraham when he visited his wife Hagar and son Ishmael. Abraham lived with one wife in Syria, but Al Buraq would transport him in the morning to Mecca to see his family there, and take him back in the evening to his Syrian wife.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Al Buraq</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5tq_zWSFbcEX56yFcmOXdFwwPd1Xc_Hoef_sMDSn0Bjg5xJmL86uoBauSQauRHvgrjiySoXnLcT1cxyAXJeu4GJSov68P2zJhvhXgALPhBKpYv4HFyLAL2QPOUBKNKRevN6_twB85CI/s1600/islam-kamadhenu2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5tq_zWSFbcEX56yFcmOXdFwwPd1Xc_Hoef_sMDSn0Bjg5xJmL86uoBauSQauRHvgrjiySoXnLcT1cxyAXJeu4GJSov68P2zJhvhXgALPhBKpYv4HFyLAL2QPOUBKNKRevN6_twB85CI/s400/islam-kamadhenu2.jpg" height="371" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Shri Kamadhu - The Wish Fulfilling Cow</span></div>
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Despite the fact that the text didn't describe Al Buraq as human faced- which is believed to be a probable misinterpretation to the text- you'll find Al Buraq is commonly illustrated as an angelic sphinx-like-being with the body of a horse, the head of a woman, and mostly with a peacock tail which closely compares it to the Indian goddess Shri Kamadhu -The Wish Fulfilling cow- which is often depicted as a mystical winged cow with a peacock tail and the head of a beautiful woman. This Iconography is very similar to that of Al Buraq who is an example of the feminine divine in Islam.<br />
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Looking at Al Buraq illustrations from ancient manuscripts, one can easily detect the influence of Far Eastern art, which influenced the modern day's illustrations of the subject.<br />
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"Whenever he faced a mountain his hind legs would extend, and whenever he went downhill his front legs would extend. He has two wings on his thighs which lent strength t o his legs." ~Prophet Muhammad - Sahih Al Bukari</div>
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Despite the fact the creature has wings, there's no evidence of Al Buraq's ability to fly, the text referred to its movement as "walking", many believe that he was flying during The Night Journey like an angel, which would make sense considering his ascension to Heavens with his Divine Rider.. but it's a miraculous mythical journey we're talking about which makes everything possible, including a walk to Heavens.<br />
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In Islam, these caricatures of any person, or creature from Al Quran are simply not permissible and considered blasphemous. Nevertheless that didn't stop some people from putting such pictures like this one at home to bring good fortune. I remember a picture of Al Buraq hanging on the wall in my grandfather's studio which always intrigued me as a child...<br />
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When I decided to start a drawing of Al Buraq, I didn't quite have an image in mind like I usually do before I start a drawing, I simply went right to the drawing paper and started scrippling.... until suddenly I was facing a strange faced twisted figure,<br />
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with many faces and a looooong winged tail...<br />
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I usually agonize over the arrangement of characters, but not this time. It felt as if the mythical creature was creating its own air about him and I simply gave in and let it all flow through my finger tips which made the whole creative process feel like a mystical journey.<br />
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I'm delighted to have met this heavenly beast, and more so to have been taken -in a way- to his mystical lair within my imagination.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-57114684895412383842012-07-02T11:08:00.003-07:002013-01-01T23:06:06.333-08:00Winds Of Change<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On the edge of the desert..<br />
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there's a lonely tree standing alone facing vast lake, that's my Amber companion's final resting place.</div>
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I see him whenever I gaze at the horizon, I feel him when the desert wind blows and I hear him in the rustling of palm tree branches. All what's left are memories and that solace I found in nature which I hope in time will be enough to sooth the spike of his departure.</div>
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Out in the Desert,</div>
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past the Lake</div>
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glows an Amber light</div>
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Three white butterflies,</div>
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land softly</div>
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Tender words and gentle lines, a tribute from friend blogger <a href="http://ramonafelse.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ramona Felse</a><br />
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And a quite moment of remembering, a dedication from <a href="http://windling.typepad.com/blog/2012/05/underneath-the-stars.html" target="_blank">Terri Windling</a> to the memory of my Amber companion.<br />
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I want to say thank you for all the heartfelt warmth I received from all of you lovely people.. saying thank you seems inadequate, but I mean it.<br />
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I have watched a dark sand storm take over peaceful blue skies<br />
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and suddenly the view has changed.<br />
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I find myself standing alone at the end of a chapter in my life. But I have learned that wherever there is an ending there is always a beginning.<br />
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I embrace the change and start my first step into this new beginning and this new path.<br />
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All things pass and something new and wonderful is always beginning.<br />
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On this note I shall leave you with a snippets of the heavenly creature that conquered my imagination and the pages of my sketchbook, shyly glancing, impatiently awaiting to come forth with a tale in it's tail.<br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-2256406276454877822012-05-11T23:20:00.000-07:002012-05-15T21:15:05.276-07:00Goodbye My Faithful Companion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Your absence has gone through me</div>
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Like thread through a needle</div>
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Everything I do is stitched with it's color.</div>
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~W.S.Merwain, "Separation"<br />
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To live in this world</div>
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you must be able</div>
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to do three things:</div>
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to love what is mortal;</div>
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to hold it</div>
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against your bones knowing</div>
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your own life depends on it;</div>
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and, when the time comes to let it go,</div>
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to let it go.</div>
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~Mary Oliver<br />
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I pray our souls will meet again...<br />
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</div>Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-84933321690999428272012-04-28T05:06:00.000-07:002014-01-13T03:05:33.962-08:00Spring Celebration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thank you for your kindness, prayers and all the magic your sent our way<br />
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Amber pup is back home and our family of two is all together now and finally we're able to see all that has been hidden behind the dark fog that overshadowed our lives in the past few weeks and we breath all of life, growth and magic in.</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Upon arriving to our Village on the hell, we were met with Spring delights, we heard the earth joyful shouts in all colors and parades of colorful birds and their songs, some are familiar and some are quite new..</span><br />
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We've crossed through fields of orange fire that sprung through the green..</div>
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and fields of gold that once upon a time were green,</div>
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Spring onion and Dill flowers are all in bloom..</div>
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And like every year, the lake receded leaving abundant of fish trapped in natural pools, easily caught by fishermen and birds all the same...</div>
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New born camel among his keen, celebrating among the abundance of green..<br />
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and as ever in bloom, bougainvillea flowers in all colors..</div>
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and delicate flowers has sprung amid the sharp thorns of cactus trees..</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">and these are our friends of the Spring..</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHPdJ2LIGzqimO34WnC-sYhXITffRxiDxPQVVxfAcA15syFuqc2Me30iSHmrY-aXFTn6F_4BnybjODws6JJGDrBasns3__3i5OO8WrLW1i7ik7-hYVTcwtolATbJzV4rR-8AOLMq2MT0/s1600/LadyBug.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHPdJ2LIGzqimO34WnC-sYhXITffRxiDxPQVVxfAcA15syFuqc2Me30iSHmrY-aXFTn6F_4BnybjODws6JJGDrBasns3__3i5OO8WrLW1i7ik7-hYVTcwtolATbJzV4rR-8AOLMq2MT0/s400/LadyBug.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">We felt the breeze of that hurried the waves of the lake and the waves of the desert sand all the same, we made our way toward our nook inhaling the many colors and joys of this season.. until we reached our nook gate way..</span><br />
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we were delighted to meet..our neighbors of the season<br />
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The crafty sparrows built his nest on my patio's lamp shade..</div>
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And a modest morning dove found in my door's lamp shade a safe heaven for her nest..</div>
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where she lovingly guarded her precious ones.</div>
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Delighted as we were, we knew right then, our patio and balcony lights for weeks shall be lit no more.. but we don't mind.</div>
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But like we witnessed life, we also witnessed death.. cars speeding unaware of precious fluttering soul, with wings the color of Autumn leaves, withered before their bloom.</div>
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And once again like every year, there comes a day when the Spring carries on it's breeze the haunting, unmistakable smell of desiccated fish, eggs, onions and lettuce and all that was once upon a time an offering to the ancient gods to ensure a good harvest. It was the day we celebrated Sham El Nessim! </div>
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Sham Al-Nessim --literally "Smelling/Taking in of th Zephyrs"-- is a holiday as old as Egypt marking the advent of Spring. It's a holiday regardless of religious and social class we Egyptians celebrate it just as our ancestor did 4500 years ago! the name is actually derived from the ancient Egyptian harvest season, Shemu, the "the renewal of life" the festival coincided with the vernal equinox and the ancient imagined that the day represented the beginning of the creation and it was linked to agricultural activity in ancient Egypt. the date of Shemu was not fixed. Rather, it was announced every years on the night before the feast at the foot of the great pyramid, and the festival included fertility rites and ancient harvest festivals that were later attached to Christianity and the celebration of Easter and now a day it falls on the first Monday after Coptic Easter.<br />
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A custom termed Sham El Nessim is observed on early in the morning of this day, many persons, especially women, break an onion, and smell it; and in the course of the forenoon many of the citizens of Cairo ride or walk a little way into the country, or go in boats, generally northward, to take the air, or, as they term it, smell the air, which on that day they believe to have a wonderfully beneficial effect. The greater number dine in the country or on the river. In Sham El Nessim the early morning brings out millions of Egyptians who crowd open green spaces even if that means ending up sitting on grassy patches next to roads, due to the scarcity of public parks and open areas in Cairo. Families start at dawn preparing their food, then take their blankets with them and enjoy the breeze of spring.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqeiMzy9YRrFV85GS9qgzay6QlhyphenhyphenLI_7IWJXKPSB9058-Z59dB7q2fIPpR71pvxURUBajZIg_uO6ryp5vrB2-5VTk0TYdYS1Ed2Ie685wtSuQzVg_S0T6MrGAusRQL2zi4lVTdawDCjw/s1600/Fesikh&Renga.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIqeiMzy9YRrFV85GS9qgzay6QlhyphenhyphenLI_7IWJXKPSB9058-Z59dB7q2fIPpR71pvxURUBajZIg_uO6ryp5vrB2-5VTk0TYdYS1Ed2Ie685wtSuQzVg_S0T6MrGAusRQL2zi4lVTdawDCjw/s400/Fesikh&Renga.jpg" height="287" width="400" /></a></div>
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Salted fish symbolized to the ancient Egyptians fertility and welfare. And so at the centre of the festival's menu is fesikh "grey mullet". Fesikh is prepared in a traditional process that is considered almost an art form. The process of preparing the fish is passed from one generation to another to insure its quality. other types of fish used also are sardines mackerel and anchovies.<br />
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But it is not all about fish to name but the basics, There are the lettuce and Green onions and both have a special significans in the occasion. Lettuce represents the feeling of the hopefulness at the beginning of the spring and the spring onions was mentioned in a papyrus relating to legends of Old Memphis:</div>
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"It is said that one of the pharaohs had an only child who was so much loved by the people. The young prince was struck down by an unknown disease and bed-ridden for years, during which time the people abstained from celebrating festivals in sympathy for the king and his son. The king summoned the arch priest of the Temple of Oun, who diagnosed the boy's sickness as having been caused by evil spirits. The priest ordered that a ripe spring onion be placed under the patient's head. The priest sliced a second onion and put it on the boy's nose so that he would breathe in the vapors. The papyrus text says that the prince soon recovered and festivities were held in the palace to mark the occasion which coincided with the beginning of spring season. As a goodwill gesture for their king, the people hung bunches of scallion over the doors of their houses, which explains how it came to be a main item on the table at Sham El Nessim."</div>
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Also there's the colored eggs which are a very distinctive feature of Sham El nessim and Spring celebrations world wide in general. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3r_b66KY0Hi9h_9PiljEC2xg-q92KsVvQSNprmvxw4uzDxY2pehG91z2XBH66vVWGx72-vM4oA_3cuZ03hya119wWKl10d0C3kpuH3qAt4sU5oK8TYCw0oOZWKp9Mx3Zfo506nyVxUHs/s1600/ShamElNessimEggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3r_b66KY0Hi9h_9PiljEC2xg-q92KsVvQSNprmvxw4uzDxY2pehG91z2XBH66vVWGx72-vM4oA_3cuZ03hya119wWKl10d0C3kpuH3qAt4sU5oK8TYCw0oOZWKp9Mx3Zfo506nyVxUHs/s400/ShamElNessimEggs.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Eggs represented life and creation to Ancient Egyptians, one of the customs celebrating Shemu was to dye, draw and write wishes on the eggs and then hang them on trees or in temples to receive the blessings of light from Amon, god of the sun, and so eating eggs in that day was a scared ritual. New to the celebrations this year and to my disappointment there were the plastic Chinese eggs! The colouring and eating of natural eggs has been replaced by buying and coloring artificial ones.</div>
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Speaking of colored egg, I show you here my failed attempt to draw on a raw egg shell, which has been crushed before it was completed.</div>
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But that didn't put my festive appetite down, egg-less as I was, I decided to celebrate my Sham El Nessim and move back to drawing on paper..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETMOlXloOIh_WC7cFsyby8it5KxpZyFpJJknwGK2_uVqPSMwu-LwrzSjEN4_tkYemfPLib2DlECq3iaGDPR7HEYzzysGOaZQvWymAJhTnQpxygl-q2QA2FlQ9bA7JDfyCRjF7HE6XTE0/s1600/WorkInProgress.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETMOlXloOIh_WC7cFsyby8it5KxpZyFpJJknwGK2_uVqPSMwu-LwrzSjEN4_tkYemfPLib2DlECq3iaGDPR7HEYzzysGOaZQvWymAJhTnQpxygl-q2QA2FlQ9bA7JDfyCRjF7HE6XTE0/s400/WorkInProgress.JPG" height="328" width="400" /></a></div>
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With imagery floating about me of Jasmine flowers, bird's nest & dragon fly,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwe2m__pBLntl8M-nVhHpkS1nfnIJ7YYi58WUBhRRe03rdMJWNr7L2G-9t7F6r10dZ3j7RdcvDMhr8i2Ztrzgo1sPOqrpqBY_Le8te-ljvIO8-Fn2osOcPKkDvrI4P-JNf2INs1ASIIg/s1600/ShamElNessimDrawingDetail1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwe2m__pBLntl8M-nVhHpkS1nfnIJ7YYi58WUBhRRe03rdMJWNr7L2G-9t7F6r10dZ3j7RdcvDMhr8i2Ztrzgo1sPOqrpqBY_Le8te-ljvIO8-Fn2osOcPKkDvrI4P-JNf2INs1ASIIg/s400/ShamElNessimDrawingDetail1.jpg" height="331" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fesikh & <span style="text-align: left;">Lettuce, </span></div>
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Butterfly & Dill flowers,</div>
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Spring Onions & Rabbit with Spring in it's eyes</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXa3zmZM7dFLq3Srbo5pynql21-4j_sIXWV5ydws5W-bmEJ6GQYpp1v_hcxMEY_3l5x-czg73hbQAR0fwY0jQRMa-4eTaMIex6EDDpPVXkD_8nhfwIiWhoi-dGnDctw6CcTzjsZLBbGs/s1600/ShamElNessimDrawingDetail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRXa3zmZM7dFLq3Srbo5pynql21-4j_sIXWV5ydws5W-bmEJ6GQYpp1v_hcxMEY_3l5x-czg73hbQAR0fwY0jQRMa-4eTaMIex6EDDpPVXkD_8nhfwIiWhoi-dGnDctw6CcTzjsZLBbGs/s400/ShamElNessimDrawingDetail.jpg" height="305" width="400" /></a></div>
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Lady bug & a gentle smile on a cleftlip</div>
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And that was the joyful face of our Sham El Nessim.</div>
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From Amber pup and I, We wish you all a magical Spring time.</div>
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6514215760606036882.post-21814496474661537922012-04-01T00:22:00.011-07:002013-01-08T22:50:16.400-08:00Sugar Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Come one come all it's Moulid night</div>
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Prayers, swings and festive light</div>
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Here's a doll and there's a knight</div>
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Sugar crunch and sweet delight</div>
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are children dreams of this night</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBHaTW2VuhPmnPRki4jfTwcP7Z_BjMhtj9Lac6_emDYF0qos7CGZqej6sLmosA8PEqLLlJeieBNmx0OnZbqRD_cgRoae6_SsoQIKsz23_5JVuwMCcAlAelhYKYhE1FL-WGbXOkwH0G5A/s1600/MoulidSugarDolls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcBHaTW2VuhPmnPRki4jfTwcP7Z_BjMhtj9Lac6_emDYF0qos7CGZqej6sLmosA8PEqLLlJeieBNmx0OnZbqRD_cgRoae6_SsoQIKsz23_5JVuwMCcAlAelhYKYhE1FL-WGbXOkwH0G5A/s400/MoulidSugarDolls.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Al-Moulid’s Doll (Arousit almoulid) is a distinctive feature of Prophet Mohamed’s Birthday ceremonies in Egypt. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYsW4mBg3m1y9-Q9E5FJjn4mLXDK-fSYCsrLqWpX6p8MnUaW-6xMSxDdA9dUV59jBRjQBzhcYv423rGIjDA92_S3YXF9GjkEx2S7UvENlmHfgglMW19AFPZLZmG22Vm2MGmoymrxLHTn8/s1600/SugarFigurine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYsW4mBg3m1y9-Q9E5FJjn4mLXDK-fSYCsrLqWpX6p8MnUaW-6xMSxDdA9dUV59jBRjQBzhcYv423rGIjDA92_S3YXF9GjkEx2S7UvENlmHfgglMW19AFPZLZmG22Vm2MGmoymrxLHTn8/s400/SugarFigurine.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It is thought to be related to ancient Egyptian and also possibly to Coptic backgrounds </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWDq5QRbglISL6RFcPvgxtUrjTDF4GELgnVEJfoTyKkEoXvGZYabGLRyH4RkQYwI48bGxsnMCUEK0iERi7HQVNR2ROIdFf2ho1yVogyI7kCPlglAUqOJN3uDjbnuIyof8bRLj8KEQddM/s1600/AncientEgyptian&Copticfigurines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="103" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWDq5QRbglISL6RFcPvgxtUrjTDF4GELgnVEJfoTyKkEoXvGZYabGLRyH4RkQYwI48bGxsnMCUEK0iERi7HQVNR2ROIdFf2ho1yVogyI7kCPlglAUqOJN3uDjbnuIyof8bRLj8KEQddM/s400/AncientEgyptian&Copticfigurines.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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ivory dolls close in resemblance were found in Pharaonic tombs, and similar dolls and figurines can be seen in the Coptic museum. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDccemndS-D6NGTDWPKJhd2hWmvLDWkPm0XBbcGBQfrRdrOhMWT8uDGlqW3eCx_vm5FHtinvd8v7PVt665SQn4u7SA8-KShzdt_M2hRFw9GZXmjR39dL8wxIBOZn6d1m7m0xCxCcLW50/s1600/SuagrDollsStand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDccemndS-D6NGTDWPKJhd2hWmvLDWkPm0XBbcGBQfrRdrOhMWT8uDGlqW3eCx_vm5FHtinvd8v7PVt665SQn4u7SA8-KShzdt_M2hRFw9GZXmjR39dL8wxIBOZn6d1m7m0xCxCcLW50/s400/SuagrDollsStand.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The origin of the dolls has many interpretations. One interpretation is that soldiers were promised the most beautiful women on earth as a reward for their bravery in war. Another is that El Hakim Ba'amr Ellah, one of the kings of the Fatimid Era, loved one of his wifes dearly that he allowed her to accompany him in El Moulid parade. The queen appeared with her white gown wearing a garment crown of jasmine, inspired by the occasion the candy makers carved two candy molds, one for the queen and another for the king riding his horse.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mR7D-dnCTpeVcAjWORrsGCZJl3-yC3MAtg_aSHiCG1FtOBq-mfdY5xIttHdE3wYqrGS1kdFIVPuMyYyVpzcyZJW_i8phu74l7nN1hoOmz48EYqsER67NoQe67OTSEuK23XPOm-iq0K4/s1600/5828120215_15abb95845_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mR7D-dnCTpeVcAjWORrsGCZJl3-yC3MAtg_aSHiCG1FtOBq-mfdY5xIttHdE3wYqrGS1kdFIVPuMyYyVpzcyZJW_i8phu74l7nN1hoOmz48EYqsER67NoQe67OTSEuK23XPOm-iq0K4/s400/5828120215_15abb95845_z.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
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Starting with the moulid doll’s attire, one can see that it reflects the costumes of women during the Fatimid era in Egypt. Since the Fatimids and Abbasids were influenced by the Persians, you can also detect a distinct Persian influence in the design.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxp1xgrHRg1lPCfZmdd3hnnMGnvR4jBuzXw3B0ceOEb05ZiNXiWsP2fZSo69gehF8c6lh25wwUiWS10b0MTxdj8fOoB110qwjHUpEKNkCyuVHuZdXnakOHlwaIDbT9OYzvpUjKPvSCd8/s1600/SugarDollFrills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxp1xgrHRg1lPCfZmdd3hnnMGnvR4jBuzXw3B0ceOEb05ZiNXiWsP2fZSo69gehF8c6lh25wwUiWS10b0MTxdj8fOoB110qwjHUpEKNkCyuVHuZdXnakOHlwaIDbT9OYzvpUjKPvSCd8/s400/SugarDollFrills.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The head-turban, narrow waistline, layers of clothes and an excess of frills are typical Fatimid clothes. The tight vest that fans out into a generous A-shaped dress that covers the doll’s ivory body is a typical Mamluk costume. The colourful paper fans clasped to her back are derived from the feathered fans used by the caliphate -The number of fans adds to the value of the doll- The corsage reflects typical peasants’ clothes and the shimmering golden and silver paper necklaces echo the traditional peasant gold necklace, known as kerdan.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WDQp4v_QaOquEYkEQ1TY5bblIEsviPJLlCS3FSASvDkXBlKW4YGcDY3rdre0uV2lW_qbDPtrDAVFXdV_EEU7uVhRTGEQXBHOv5VTQ11fwhMX9XYHQ4hv8eNjRq4dB1CSbSic2dUDWmY/s1600/MoulidDoll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WDQp4v_QaOquEYkEQ1TY5bblIEsviPJLlCS3FSASvDkXBlKW4YGcDY3rdre0uV2lW_qbDPtrDAVFXdV_EEU7uVhRTGEQXBHOv5VTQ11fwhMX9XYHQ4hv8eNjRq4dB1CSbSic2dUDWmY/s400/MoulidDoll.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The generous black kohl (eye liner) that outlines her eyes and brows is a typical ancient Egyptian trend. Also the excess pink blush is attributed to the makeup style of the ancient Egyptians. </div>
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On a corresponding note, the moulding of the candy figurines is equally fascinating. Significantly, similar wooden moulds were used by the Ancient Egyptians for shaping their amulets.</div>
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First the indigenous artists would engrave the shape of the doll on a wooden mould that splits into two sides. Then they’d add large amounts of sugar, mix it with water and lemon and leave on the stove to boil. The mixture is poured into the wooden mold and left to dry.</div>
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The end result is an ivory figurine with a cylinder hollow body to ensure stability. </div>
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The figurine is then ready for decoration. </div>
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Unfortunately for this time-honored tradition of craftsmanship that was passed down from generation to generation, </div>
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the authentic sugar dolls and figurines made in this celebration have long become obsolete, replaced by modern-day plastic alternatives. </div>
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Only one sugar-making factory continues to mould the traditional sugar figurines. Boulaq's "Imam and Refai" Factory, founded in 1920, boasts doll-makers who have inherited the craft from generations before them -- some of them in their 40th year at the factory. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/abcJNVyx3aA?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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I found this old Egyptian musical sket that take place inside a real sugar figurine's workshop. Watch them work and hum their song.<br />
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Inspired by the joyful season I created this drawing of the sugar doll...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZsNt6zH26LjxGnxcbqQ8YJkxUN6JFOz2UcVDhaWuSUUTOpSwfTV18GLhhVXRiD01uDPEnsWHL8ihtcX5ZoAQoOOoUoHw8p2bP3hJSp09d1Ai8dvd1mmmBa8tE5Unc3tDiIo3ZKzDloI/s1600/SuagarDollSketch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZsNt6zH26LjxGnxcbqQ8YJkxUN6JFOz2UcVDhaWuSUUTOpSwfTV18GLhhVXRiD01uDPEnsWHL8ihtcX5ZoAQoOOoUoHw8p2bP3hJSp09d1Ai8dvd1mmmBa8tE5Unc3tDiIo3ZKzDloI/s400/SuagarDollSketch.JPG" width="282" /></a></div>
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proudly standing in a meditative state and<br />
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in her fan she's holding all the magic and mysteries of El Moulid and it's folks.<br />
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I deliberately avoided the frills and fans and all the rest of the taboo most common distintcivte features of the sugar dolls.. perhaps it's a dislike to all the insubstantial glitter about it. I was more interested in the essence of the subject which is usually lost in the process of portraying all the flimsiness that covers the beautiful ivory figure of the sugar doll in most drawings.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8rOiwLW4n-YhUD0nM0bOnVzoMLffPrSEkNZoHx3Px-cN5SksKiGWCEvTNjpL4wewqKC51Ox9EOT6B7V5_NSPitLfuo3NdxXyDi4m1xoUzkvMv5hyWI_2X1oVwYd08_09iHe-uv25f-w/s1600/SuagrDollSketch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT8rOiwLW4n-YhUD0nM0bOnVzoMLffPrSEkNZoHx3Px-cN5SksKiGWCEvTNjpL4wewqKC51Ox9EOT6B7V5_NSPitLfuo3NdxXyDi4m1xoUzkvMv5hyWI_2X1oVwYd08_09iHe-uv25f-w/s400/SuagrDollSketch.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
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I made this drawing when I was a teen, in comparison to my work of today, I see how my lines has changed.. my first drawing with all it's simplicity and imperfections and my recent drawing with all it's yearning to become... I love both drawings and both are part of me, it's almost like regarding a childhood photo in comparison to my own mirror reflection of this morning.<br />
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Far away from our oasis and our favorite hill.. far away from home, today I enter a third decade of my life with a heart aching for my amber companion, I learned yesterday that he's suffering from a seriouse sever illness and we're both in Cairo for his medical treatment. I had to leave my pup at the hospital, and for the first time in Seven years we're apart!<br />
This morning of my birthday it rained, quite unusual for this time of year, but when it rains in Egypt we say: " make a prayer when rain falls for the doors of heavens are wide open to receive all calls" and so I pray that my pup will be, soon home with me, where once again we can leap and race, together through the green haze. <br />
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Hussam Elsherifhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546848660506094430noreply@blogger.com6