Aftermath for GAFYW Annual Event...

Losing the War
Third Prize Winner…English
Writer from Saudi Arabia:
Ilham Khalid Mahmoud Hafiz

Four words. That’s all it took to bring my world down. Who would have thought that the much dreaded disease might come knocking on my door?
‘I’m sorry ma’am… Your daughter has cancer!’ the doctor announced sadly.
I stood there frozen in shock, as tears clouded my vision and rolled down my face. How could this happen to us? How could the sun, shine brightly when my daughter had cancer? What had I done to receive fates cruel plans? Why her, my innocent Angel?
Earlier that day, when she wouldn’t eat lunch, I sent her off to bed without dessert. Instead of arguing as usual, my 4 year old daughter walked to the bathroom and didn’t reappear for a long time. I went to check up on her as a motherly instinct nagged me that something wasn’t right. To my horror I found her sobbing at a corner with vomit all over her.

‘What’s wrong Angel?’ I cried as I ran to her side.
‘Mommy, it hurts all over!’ she whispered as she fell into my arms. Unconscious.

20 minutes later Angel was rushed into an emergency room. After 8 hours, multiple questions, and a dozen tests, I got the news that changed my life.

Angel wasn’t your everyday 4 year old girl. She had goals that she was determined to accomplish. She was very stubborn and always got her own way. She walked up to random strangers and became friends with them. She ran around the park making sure she was friends with every other child. She was loud, bubbly, and hated sitting still. Her father, my husband, died when she was just 2 months old. She always insisted that she could bring him back if I gave her my car. She didn’t understand the concept of death… being too innocent for that troubled fact. She had chocolate brown curls that cascaded around her heart shaped face, and light blue eyes that stood out in comparison to her slightly pink skin.


After I calmed down, I learned that my daughter was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML), a cancer that ran through her blood as we spoke. If not treated, we were facing a fatal disease.
Chemotherapy was added to our calendar more than five times a month and at a point, a Stem Cell Transplantation was required.
I was tested for tissue typing, and thanks to the lord, our tissues were compatible.
Angel being her lively self was loved and admired greatly in the hospital. All the kids looked up to playing with her, and the staff was amazed by her strength.
Yes, she was a very brave warrior and I hoped she’d get us through this battle against leukemia.
The surgery was completed successfully and for a few weeks, things were looking up.
One day before Angel’s birthday, she looked at me innocently and scared me without meaning to.
‘You know mommy, you look like a princess! You have beautiful hair and I have nothing to match your beauty!’ she said sadly as she rubbed her bare scalp.
Tears flooded my eyes and I asked one of the nurses to watch her while I left the hospital. I just had another gift to get her.
The next day, I entered the hospital with a small box and my head held up high. The moment I entered Angel’s room, she looked up at me with shock written on her face.
‘You have cancer too Mommy?’ She asked fearfully. I just shook my head not trusting my voice. I gave her the box and watched as she opened it and pulled out a wig made from my hair fashioned to fit her small head. She looked at me awestruck and softly whispered a “thank you” as tears rolled down her face.
For a five year old, she was very mature. If there’s one thing I could blame cancer for, it was stealing Angel’s childhood. The rest we could manage.
That day we had a blast and cancer was forgotten and for the time being. It was like the old times, when Angel and I would go celebrate her birthday in her favorite theme park. She was the only reason I pushed by each day, forgot the pain of being orphaned and then widowed. She was the reason behind the smile on my face.
For a while, Angel’s state was stable. Her appetite was dropping though and she lost a lot of weight. The doctors said it was normal. Her face grew skinnier and her natural blush turned to papery white. Her blue eyes remained as they were; determined to fight. Her state was worrying and frightening me more and more as each day passed by.
Three months after her birthday, I took Angel to a pool party she’s been begging me for ages to attend.
When I was changing her clothes, I noticed the bruises on her back, chest, and limbs.
‘You know Mommy! I will never take off your hair until death does us apart! And when I die, bury me with it! Only if you really want it back, then you can have it. Don’t give me that look, I AM going to die one day!’ she looked at me sternly. I couldn’t believe my five year old treasure was the one opening my eyes to reality.
Halfway through the party she fainted in the swimming pool. My eyes widened in shock as I jumped into the pool and pulled her out of it. Remembering the teachings of the first aid courses I took when she was diagnosed, I felt for a heartbeat and when I barely found one, I moved her body and performed CPR (mouth-to-mouth resuscitation). Words can’t explain the joy that overcame me when she sat up coughing.
I looked up to see that we were surrounded by parents and kids her age and was glad to see an ambulance pulling up the front yard.
We were rushed into the hospital and after five painful hours of waiting, the doctor brought news that burst our happy bubbles and reminded me of Angel’s earlier words.
‘I’m sorry Susan; it seems that her body rejected the marrow. There’s nothing we can do now that won’t kill her. Just pray!’ the doctor sniffs sadly as he pats my back.
I collapsed on the floor and cried my heart out. For the first time ever, I felt like there was no use to fight it anymore. Depression was slowly taking over my body. I stayed in that helpless position for hours until I couldn’t take the pity filled looks anymore. I walked into Angel’s room and tried to find a way to deliver the news to her.
When she saw me broken and in loss for words, shock and realization painted her face. Till this day, beats me how she was very strong and smart.
‘I’m going to die, right?’ she asked in sorrow. I nod my head as tears flow freely. What she said next was completely what I didn’t expect.
‘Marry someone mommy! I don’t want you to live lonely!’ I froze as at her words.
'Promise me mommy!' she begged again.
'I promise' I said as tears silently rolled down my face. She sighed and closed her eyes.
‘I love you mommy!’ she mumbled. ‘I love you way more!’ I replied while hugging her tightly. That night, I watched as she slept and replayed every memory I could grasp since she came into this world. Her father would be proud of the team we were I thought sadly. Now she would join him and leave me alone.
I woke up as a chill engulfed my heart and a piercing alarm echoed all around the room. I spun my head frantically, searching for the source. My soul sank to the depths of loss as I saw the flat lines that indicated her heartbeat and the noise that erupted from the vital signs monitor.
Instantly the room was filled with doctors and nurses who tried to hold me down and check for Angels pulse. Why try, we all knew that she was long gone. No matter what we did, she stared back at us with a smile that couldn’t be wiped. A horrible scream filled the room and I guessed it came from me. I fell to the ground screaming and thrashing until they drugged me.
And that’s when I last saw my daughter, cold, lifeless, yet happy and content. I couldn’t help but think we “lost the war.”

THE END


****************************
****************************
****************************




4 English
Aware...
Writer from Khartoum:
Eva Andrew Tadros Sama’an

I was sick of everything I had to put up with. The constant lies, the manipulation, the insults; it was all becoming too much. I couldn't bear it any more. Every time I told myself it was going to be okay, that it would get better with time. A part of me always doubted what I was trying to convince myself with, but I turned it off. I finally realized it had been right all along, things only get worse. They deteriorated; degenerated. Who was I trying to kid? The only person I was lying to was I. But I was through. No more lies, no more excuses. I was going to face the truth. I was done defending my post in the battlefield I called my mind.

I washed my face and looked at the mirror. The face staring back was a cold and an insensate one; a face that I hadn't seen before. Except that I had, too many times, noticed that every time it was colder, harsher, and more hateful. It was like whenever I made it go away, it came back stronger and with more determination. Like a dead man rising from ashes, seeking revenge. The feeling I had was undepictable. All the words in the world couldn't describe it. It was an understatement to say it was dreadful. But I wasn't going to fight it. I was going to let it take over. It had won; finally conquered me, and it wasn't leaving; it was there to stay.

I went up the stairs to the seventh floor balcony to try and shake it off; to try and calm down. But the feeling only got worse. I saw today's paper on the floor with a picture of me and a caption that read: “insane girl escapes from mental institution”. Insane? I wasn't insane. I was perfectly sane; aware. Escape? They portrayed me like I was some sort of prisoner. No, I wasn't insane. I was just different; special. They hadn't met someone like me before; someone who dared to be different; someone who dared to be unique, someone who dared to stand out; to step out of the box they were all living in. Yes, I broke boundaries; I was someone who thought nothing of the limits. Rules were just a bunch of words the government scribbled. I made my own rules. I wasn't going to be inferior to anyone. I lived my life the way I wanted to and not the way the law wanted me to.
I sat at the edge of the building's roof and thought about how awful people were. Horrific people, each and every one of them is. They all claimed to care; pretended to be concerned. Selfishness was the main quality in human beings. All they sought was protecting their own interests; no matter who they hurt in the process. As long as they were safe and their interests were secure. What was most shocking for me to learn was those who supposedly cared the most about you ended up hurting you the most. The wounds they caused couldn't be healed; they were unrecoverable from. After trying to please everyone and trying to make sure everyone was satisfied with you, all you got was a cold slap on your face. It was inevitable; it was just human nature.
The saddest part though, was that I was the same. I hurt people without realizing it, I made people suffer. I was just like all the other demons I was complaining about. I knew it. And now someone somewhere was suffering because of me. They were in pain; agonized. And I was the reason, whether directly or indirectly. But that was going to stop. I wasn't going to torture anyone any more. It was enough.

And with that a last thought crossed my mind. How could I ever make it up to all those I hurt? Will they ever grant me their forgiveness?
In light of recent events, I wound up having a pocketknife in my jeans. I took it out and sliced my sweaty palm open. I rubbed the blood and when I had enough on my finger, I wrote two simple words on my arm. With that done, I took a deep breath and jumped. It was liberating; exhilarating. It was the best feeling in the world. At that moment all my troubles had disappeared; vanished. I was a peaceful person again. The dreadful feeling I had was now gone, substituted with a feeling of eternal freedom. I didn't think of what I had and hadn't accomplished. No, at that moment, my release from my jail cell in the world was all that was important.

Before I knew it, I saw grey concrete, and then blackness...

The headlines of the next morning's paper read: “mentally deranged girl found dead with the words 'I apologize' written with blood on her arm; was the institution to blame?”

















5- Writer from Khartoum

Arabic Forum