karimisms

-1- Carpe diem

She said to seize the day
when I found her
smiling back at me
on my computer screen
I wanted to seize the day
and be with her
I wanted 
to be with her
but I had to seize something else
my feelings 
my smiles
my anticipation
that maybe
just maybe
one day I would meet this beauty
wrapped in tender sweetness
and smart wit
she wants poetry
and poetry she will get
on the hour
every hour
in my mind and in my heart
poetry she will get
by the breeze going North
and by the wings of butterflies
Poetry she will get
when she feels the sun on her face
and when she reads Tolstoy
who said: “love is God”
if love is God
Then I am a proffet
delivering a message to my beloved
That I will send her verses
from the Koran
from the bible
and from every book of our maker
so I can let her know
in all the languages God invented
that I am in love
with her
at this very moment
which I seize.
______________________

-2- Symphonies of Love

You tell me 
love is a symphony
I ask
where is the melody?
where is
the melody?
of your voice
whispering in my ear
waking me with passion
notes cannot explain
or fathom

You tell me love 
is a symphony
I listen
I hear it 
loud in the silence
of my total
infatuation with you
loud in the silence
of notes not on a page
but in my heart
going up and down 
and down and up
making sounds 
only you can hear

You tell me
love is a symphony
I hold my violin
trying to say something
but your face is smiling
you can already hear
the music
with my bow touching no strings

The music between you and I
is based on essence
on surreal understanding
with no words
and no notes
and no instruments

we both want
but cannot have
and that my darling
is just too beautiful

Lets remain silent 
let the music play
not to our ears
but in our hearts
and then one day
when I look into your eyes
and our lips melt into each other
the symphony will be  heard aloud
by the entire universe
__________________________

-3- My muse

My muse knows not
what affect she has on me
I had erected walls
around my soul
but they came tumbling down
when I saw her picture
when I sensed her
dancing to Shakira
next to me

My muse knows not
how she has rocked
my ebb and flow
of yummy lines
describing her
saying to all
I am in love
with someone 
whose voice I have heard not
and with someone
whose face I have touched
not

My muse knows not
I am a master chef in
Algerian and French cooking
even if in my head
the plates will exude stature
transforming the egg salad
into a Pot de Creme
and the bologna sandwich
into a Berber and Moorish concoctions
as we feast 
on delectable edible 
lust

Mu muse loves black
to no surprise
the color of mystery
the color of history
of Shahrazad
and Egyptian wonders
the color of dreams
as they carry me into 
her surrender
the color of love
in waiting

My muse says 
a little prayer
sending me vibes of comfort
and wishes of the day
we become a reality
until them
the dreams will continue
in black
and I will feast
on egg salad
and bologna sandwiches
as I watch the walls
tumbling down
_______________________

-4- Coffee Shop

I am sitting at the Coffee Shop trying
to think of anything other than you

but I can’t shake you out of my mind
turning my sunny and day a little blue

but rest assured my dear it is not
the color of sadness, for it is true

that rainbows only come out when
it rains, shimmering with a mixed hue

even the prisoner caterpillar in the cocoon
will turn into a butterfly all a new

with colors only the maker can decipher
gorgeous and stunning causing an ooh!

The metamorphous of my love my darling
will simmer my world into a vibrant stew

of all of my emotions and all of my love
and all of my lines I write for you.

And as I take my last sip of coffee
I look in the bottom of the cup and woooo!

if it isn’t a little heart in the center
left by the grounds as if they knew.
____________________________

-5- The Call

The call finally came
with the lobster roll
and while Jim sat alone
in the middle of a
busy and loud place
no one understood the magnitude
of this call
it was the first time
I talked with the woman
I have been dreaming about
while I am awake.

She sounded
french and british
with a little Arab mixed in
but the most beautiful thing about
her voice was
her poise
her class
her confidence
her humor
her wit
and her adorable lovable self
the self I must talk to again
the self I must know again
for the first time

I stood in the bathroom
looking at myself in the mirror
while I tried to stay in one peace
while I tried to sound cool
even though my heart was ablaze
That green hip bathroom
was where our first conversation took place
now that is funny
not because it was green
but because it was just there
with two guys waiting outside

Now I have her voice
to ad to the mental picture
I am assembling of my beloved
It is as if there is a hand
at play
keeping things to a minimum
it is as if
the hand of God
is keeping things in small doses
but again
maybe that is a good thing
because in the past
the big doses led to nothing
they led to heart break
they led to my heart
deciding to wait
for someone I would have to take in
a little at a time
as painful as that is
as “my-God-that-is-so-not-me” is
it is beautiful

So keep it coming Anissa
whose name sings
and who is keeping a little town
in Wyoming tonight
happy
_________________________

-6- words

She said my words
lifted her up high
she does not know
that her words
shoot up into the heavens
of intoxicating thrill
and smiles
and trust
and lust
for more smiles
and more thrill
and more trust

She said my words
are bright
she do Uplifting Moments
es not know
that her picture
in my mind
competes with sun
every morning
stealing the light and saying
it is my turn
for I am
his sun today

She likes my words
what she doesn’t know
is that I like my words
when they are about her
when they spill out
as if I was a hard drive
programmed to love her
and tell the entire world
that I do
in languages
I don’t even know

She is going to tell me
all I want to know
will we have enough time
I will need lots of time
more time that God has given us
more time than Adam and Eve had
more time than the dinosaurs had
I will need two seconds to say it
and a lifetime to express it
and another lifetime
to hear her whisper
in my ear
the words that will make
the rivers of homey flow
into and out of my world.

Free until it hurts

We could come up with many reasons tom be thankful this upcoming “American” holiday, although, one previlage rises above all others.

We could be thankful for our family and friends, who take us as we are, and who love us despite our shortcomings.

We could be thankful for the fact that we have many of the things that many countries do not:

Education, as lagging as that one is behind countries in the far east like Japan, China, and India; we still have an education system free to the public. One that does a fair job in preparing our youth for tomorrow. We should definitely be thankful for some of our most dedicated teachers who day in and day out instill great virtues in our children with very little pay and very little reward.

Health care: Yes…. there are many problems with this one. But did you know that many countries do not even know of the concept? I grew up in Syria, and we are just now recognizing that this is a service, which should be provided. Yes…we can do a better job making health care available for everyone, but the fact it is available for many cannot be denied.

Economy: This one goes up and down, and people lose their jobs during the rough times. But we also revel in booms for years. And the long-term outlook for the economy of this country is an upward line despite some dips and corrections. If we work hard, we are rewarded fairly. As simple as that may seem, it is not the case in many places on this earth.

We should be thankful for those privileges, and yes they are privileges not to be taken for granted. But we should be extremely thankful for one privilege this country offers to all of its citizens regardless of color, race, economic status, education, or any other measure of existence:

Freedom.

People who live here as well as abroad can criticize America for many of its policies. Iraq has not been the success it was hoped to be. The country is divided on whether it was a noble cause or a quagmire of death and destruction. Whichever side of the fence you are one, the fact remains that those 18 and 29 year olds on the front lines have the belief that they are granting someone else what they have in abundance. Never mind the motives of the government and how much we can argue the oil issue and the weapons of mass destruction issue, somewhere in the middle of the chaos, an Iraqi citizen today was able to say something he would have been arrested for uttering before.

Syria is considered to be a free country. Despite the partial freedom we had, there were things you just did not say and do. Things are much better now, and we have people expressing their opinion freely most of the time, but under supervision and with a certain liability attached. Many countries around the world suffer from this partial freedom syndrome. America does not. We do have plenty of ills in this society with heroes working daily to correct them. But we do have freedom, and for that; we should be thankful.

We revel in what I call: Free until it hurts freedom.

In the year 2000, I photographed a rally on the steps on the Jefferson County Court House steps. The people assembled to voice their opinion were heavily guarded by Birmingham city police. There were fences erected to keep outsiders from getting too close and disrupting the rally. Police lined up with gas masks and guns ready to protect and serve. The group protesting on the Court House steps was not preaching progressive ideas. They were not shouting great mantras or uplifting messages. They were cursing a certain race out.

They were the KKK.

But as a country which honors freedom of expression, we not only allowed this action, but we protected. I watched that day with my skin crawling from the hatred they were spewing out. I wanted them to disappear into their own absurdity. But part of me rejoiced in the fact that anyone with any message can be heard. I wanted to climb the fence and take them out myself, but I would have been arrested. It is not the virtue you are instilling that matters, it is the action of expression.

In America, we are free…free until it hurts. That day hurt many people from many races around this city. But not to notice the freedom umbrella hovering would be foolish.

We have two parties in our government, which criticize and attack each other daily. They have the freedom to express their opinion no matter what. If a congressman disagrees with the president, he can just do that. He can even tell everyone. In some countries that can be the last action he takes.

Pakistan is a timely example where the leader can just stop the flow of freedom and declare marshal law. What he is unaware of is that the freedom he is holding tight in his fist could be the reason for his fall in the near future.

Democracy is much stronger than the will to contain humanity. Democracy is innate, and many will struggle and lose their lives to achieve it. We should never forget, and we should say thank you every day because we have it.

We should let our children know they have it, and that others don’t. We should teach them what freedom is, and what not having it can lead to. We should open their minds to those concepts, which many young ones do not even recognize. We should take them with us when we vote, and put the “I voted” sticker on their shirt. We should never let them take for granted what some people give up their lives to acquire.

This upcoming “American” holiday is one of my favorites because it reminds me of what I have here…freedom until it hurts.

Peace and love should not be considered radical ideas.

As fourteen Arab delegates converge on Washington this week to discuss the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, the world holds its breath…or does it?

There is not denying that if the debate over land and refugees is settled, and if the Palestinians and the Israelis learn to live together peacefully; that the entire Arab world will benefit. Actually, the entire world will. We have seen what imbalance of power and Western intervention can do to a nation as present in the endless Iraqi situation. Democracy, freedom, and security are wonderful aspects of life that everyone should enjoy, but you must willingly accept them and be ready to embrace them.

Many countries in the Middle East remain in volatile situations. Syria may not even participate in the summit due to the fact that the Golan Heights is not on the agenda. Lebanon’s political situation is in disarray, and the country is still recovering from the recent Israeli attacks. Egypt’s parliament now has representatives from Hamas, a group considered terrorist by the Bush Administration. The West Bank is completely taken from the control of Palestinian president Mahmoud Abbas and his Fatah party.

And there is the Palestinian refugee crises which surpasses any refugee crises in recent history. They are the millions of people born and living in absolute nothingness. Most countries around them refuse to acknowledge even their existance. When they are helped, they are helped as long as they don’t become too loud or too obvious.

I remember growing up is Damascus and being told by family and friends not to go to the “Mukhiam”, the camp. The camp mentioned was where the Palestinians lived, and what everyone else tried to ignore and deny as a reality. They have very little in the basic infrastructure needed for survival. They are also denied employment keeping them in status quo.

These delegates from the Arabian countries will sit in one room with American and Israeli leaders and try to arrive at a solution. The task is huge with massive reprocutions and implications. Last time they were in one room was during the Bill Clinton era, with mild results.

Some say that Arabs and Israelis should look forward. They should forget the dark and bloody past both people have endured, and look towards a bright and peaceful tomorrow. The problem with that argument is when you take it down to the level pf a Palestinian refugee or an Israeli boy who watched his mom or dad being savagely killed. When you consider the millions of refugees in the Palestinian camps with absolutely no reason to live. When you consider walking the streets of a Jewish city near the Lebanese border and watching a shower of missiles rain. When you consider all the horrific details of existence in that part of the world, chances are that forgetting the past becomes difficult.

What is the solution then? What will these delegates and world leaders talk about, and what will the tone of the conversation be?

To the Arabs, the solution is fairly simple: If Israel withdraws to the 1967 borders declared by the United Nations as the rightful borders for the nation of Israel, and if they allow the Palestinians to declare themselves a soverign nation with East Jersusalem as the capital, the Arabs will agree to the existence of the Jewish nation. However, a small block remains in the way.

Certain political powers in the Middle East, like Hamas in the West Bank and Iran, refuse to acknowledge the existence of Israel, and they remain defiant as they watch their countries and people perish due to their unbending stance.

When will these leaders realize that most of their people want peace. When will they realize that the babies born in their countries know no hate. They are taught hate by the elders, and they grow up to carry on the deadly wishes of those elders who themselves were born knowing no hate.

It is a viscous cycle, which must be broken for everyone to live together.

The upcoming Peace Summit could have phenomenal results affecting the lives of millions of people. That is exactly what these leaders meeting in Washington this week remember. They are in power not because they are powerful, but because they were granted the power by their people. Yes, the definition of democracy varies in the Middle East, but as we have seen in Pakistan, when the people want to be heard, they will find a way. The leaders should consider the virtues of giving, of humility, of sacrifice, of tolerance, and of love.

These virtues have forged the way in the past for millions to follow people like Moses, Mohamed, and Jesus establishing the three religions with many common threads. These virtues have also established leaders like Ghandy, King, Mother Teresa, and the Dali Lamma as ones with no hunger for power, but a huge desire for peace. They moved millions of people by saying little. Could power be a paradoxical? The more you force on your people, the more they loathe you? Pakistan again…

If we only listened to the voices of the past…maybe we can learn something new…maybe we can live together.

Maybe we will consider that peace and love are not radical ideas.

Another Holiday season looms around the corner with all of its “family” this and “family” that. But what do you do if your family is no longer the traditional one? If you choose to look at it negatively, then please stop reading right now, and turn the page. There are many families that are not intact, but that does not have to mean the Holiday season has to be a struggle.

As I prepare for my third “single dad” Thanksgiving and Christmas, I try to think of all the positive aspects of my single life. You can dwell on the past good times, but that will only reflect in your attitude towards the kids. There is only one way to approach the Holidays…a big grin on your face from ear to ear. Start grinning late in November until after the New Year, and your children will thank you; then they will love you twice. Once for being unselfish and putting them first (isn’t that what we are suppose to do as parents?), and twice for going through a rough patch with a grin on your face instead of making everyone’s life miserable.

Below are ten strategies that might help make your Holidays a little more “family” oriented, even if your family is not what it used to be.

1- Trees that bend never break: Be flexible. That is it, even if that means you don’t have the kids to enjoy the entire holiday season. Or you may have to drive four hours and share them with your ex, just be flexible. The holidays are a good time to really focus on the kids and put them first.
2- Double your pleasure: You can think of it this way: Your kids can now have two of everything. Two Thanksgivings, two Christmas’s, and two New Years. That is not a bad deal for growing kids. When I was little, my goal during the holidays was two fold, and neither had anything to do with my family. One was the amount of gifts I was going to receive; the other was the amount of candy and sweets I was going to consume. If they can have double the pleasure, let them enjoy it.
3- The sweet side of singleness – freedom: Spending time without the kids does not have to mean not enjoying the season. Get together with your friends, throw a party, or do any of the social events that many married couples cannot do. Do keep in touch with the children though. They are going to expect you to do so.
4- Six steps, turn, and fire: You do not have to get in a competition with the other parent to out-do each other. Both of you are already stressed with all of the extra arrangements you have to take care of. Competing will only complicate matters.
5- Chipmunks save their nuts for the winter, you should too: Planning way in advance will result in a smooth season. Surprises are never easy any time they are encountered, more so during the Holiday season when the tension is at an all time high. Start pondering your split arrangements in the fall, and everyone will be happy. (You can always start in January like the after-Christmas sale, but you may not be able to hold on to those plans, just like the fact that you will not remember were you put that cheep gift-wrapping.)
6- Sir, yes sir: Being single does not mean you have to let go of the principle: The Parent-Centered Family. You are still in charge, and they have to do what you say. Off course you will plan Holiday events that will please them, but do not give up the reins to your kids just because you are single.
7- One is one, not two: Staying close helps while you are solo. While taking the kids to Disney World might be taxing for a single parent, going to the beach or making several day trips to closer destinations makes more sense. Even staying home can be fun…many websites are dedicated to helping single parents with the Holidays, just Google it!

The next three points are for you, not your kids. Holidays while being single do not have to be depressing. If it’s not your turn with the kids, do something for yourself.

8- To holiday alone, or to holiday with someone: Holidays can be a wonderful time to meet someone. All of our senses that help us attract others are heightened. We realize that we are single the most during the Holidays, while watching the other “couples” being all (couply). Still, you never want to seem desperate. It is o.k. To be outgoing and complementary though (Gee, that is a lovely Santa hat you are wearing…)
9- Its time for your bonus: This time of every year, I give my self a bonus to spend only on myself. It does not have to be Thousands of dollars, just enough to remind yourself that you should still take care of yourself. (And it is a great excuse to buy that food dehydrator you were forbidden from buying while married!)
10- Time? … I have plenty: Many organizations can use the help during the season. Check with your local municipalities for bulletin boards advertising needs for labor. It can vary from soup kitchens to wrapping gifts at the mall for a cause. This will not only contribute to the common good, it will make you feel you did something worthwhile. Plus you never know, you may meet someone who shares your unselfish attitude.

May you have the best Holiday season, and do remember its the true meaning: Forgiveness and Grace.

My peace is struggling
To be heard
To be seen
In the midst of violence
In the midst of killing
Wanting to be warm
In a shivering world

My peace is loud
Like a whisper
In the dark, quite night
No one is listening
Despite the pain
Despite the anguish
Despite the screams
That no one can hear

My peace is heavy
Like a drop of rain
Falling into the abyss
Of guns and machetes
And losing all sense of
Togetherness

My peace is calling
The names of little ones
In darfure
In Baghdad
In Jerusalem
It is calling the names
Of my little ones
In Birmingham
Zade, dury…demi

My peace is crying
With tears transcendent
Unseen while they vanish
Into a world hard and cruel
But like a rainbow
It has colors
While gloomy

My peace
Wants all to stop the hate
To stop the carnage
Mounting
When will we stop?
The carnage
The CAR-NAGE
In our world
In our back yards

My peace is dying
For the world to hear
When will it save me?
From becoming another tomb stone
With a beginning
And an end
That came too soon

My peace is asking
All the children
To find their own
Peace
To shout it loud and clear
I have it
I have it
I
Have it

Then and only then
They will know
Life can be as sweet a the dew
On their little toes
As light as a dandelions
After their cheeks blow
And as bright as the sun
In their big little hearts

Their peace
Starts in their world
As little as their tiny chest
Then renders itself
Bigger than themselves
The caterpillar is a prisoner first
But with patience and love
The world has no walls

My peace
Is
In
My world

Did you go to moon?
Did you fly by a palm tree?
Swaying to music of the night,
Like a ballerina, liberated and free?

Did you land on a star?
Did you see the critters near and far?
Chirping like a rock and roll band,
With drums, a keyboard and a guitar?

Did you climb Mount Everest?
Did you camp at sixteen thousand feet?
Did you breathe no Oxygen?
As you nailed a flag without losing a beat?

Did you take a trip down a beehive?
Flying from hexagon to hexagon?
Passing thousands of worker bees buzzing,
Some staying a bit, and some are gone?

Did you score the winning goal?
Of a soccer game against Brazil?
Left and right between three defenders,
Tearing the net like a rocket made of steel.

Did you write a tale of little boy?
Who rubbed a little silver lamp?
Releasing a genie as mighty as the sword,
Flying out of the cave and into the damp swamp?

Did you paint the Mona Lisa?
Did you invent new colors?
Green merging into blue heaven,
Like the sky meeting emerald ocean covers.

Did you travel to Indonesia?
With a team of sherpas carrying your treasures,
Diamonds, Sapphires, and rubies,
Shiny like your eyes full of pleasures.

Take me with you next time my baby,
I will gladly serve on your crew.
For the rest of my life with gladness,
I will cherish my ride with you.

“Karim, you don’t bike, you cycle.” That was the advice of Portico editor Julie Keith as I prepared for my first bike ride ever this past summer.

The Salvation Army Century Ride started smoothly. Hundreds of cyclists took off from East Birmingham towards Springville. My Samford group and I were just peddling along when we went by a “wipe out”, (a cyclist’s term for someone losing it). All I saw was a girl laying on the side of the road with a few people around her, and a knee that lacked much skin. I gripped the handle bar a little tighter as we moved along the wet road.

The air was thick and humid from the rain the night before, and the cars didn’t seem to know we were there. Each mile took somewhere between 12 and 15 minutes. We were going at an easy pace while being passed by the serious cyclists, and then I met my first “hill” (a cyclist term for a mountain that will make you hate yourself.) The hill was a half-mile long, and at the very top of it, I knew I should have trained more than the “one time” I did.

We continued along when I saw the 26 mile turn, I decided to stick with it. There is always the option of the “sag— wagon” (a cyclist term meaning the van that picks you up when you expire from the many hills.) My legs started feeling like mush, and my hands were getting extremely tired from gripping the handle bar. It took me a while to figure out taking on the hills. You don’t want to be on the “granny” gear (A cyclist term meaning the gear that allows your 90-year-old grandmother to summit the longest hill.) You want to become friends with a gear somewhere in the middle. It is a game between how fast you want to finish the *-&^%#? Hill and how fast you want to spin without going anywhere.

We suddenly got on a road that made the miles go by faster. It was a beautiful two-lane highway lined with farms and rolling hills. Then I saw the 40-mile split, and for some odd reason, I continued along with my group toward the goal of 60 miles. No one said a word; I just thought I knew what I was doing.

Black clouds started to move in at mile 48, and then the sky opened up and a deluge of what felt like nails in the face began. We were looking for shelter when the sag wagon drove up and picked us up. I felt so relieved…its over, or so I thought. They drove us to the next rest stop, a mile down the road, where I found out about true grit. My group was determined to finish the ride. I decided to go for it, when the guy at the rest stop warned us about the famous “cemetery hill” up a head. I had never heard the term before (a cyclist term meaning the 3-mile-hill on highway 78 a few miles east of Birmingham, or as I describe it: Death Hill). I looked at him with disbelief. I was trying to convince my self that 3-mile-hills do not exist. We start Cemetery hill, and after the first mile, I started to think: maybe its true. Mile two came along and we were still going up. Then mile three came, and I experienced my first “wall” (a marathon term meaning you cannot go any farther, or you were wishing you would turn into a wall). Somehow I finished the dreaded hill and felt a sense of jubilation as we neared the end.

As we biked into the parking lot, we knew we were dead last, but it did not matter. What mattered is that we finished despite a couple of flat tires, a monsoon, and Cemetery Hill.

I have the Salvation Army to thank for this wonderful experience. As well as Cahaba Cycles and Cameras Brookwood for their donations of the bike and the camera. I hope the ride and future rides will raise the awareness of the Salvation Army’s efforts to combat serious social ills. We cycled on that Saturday, but many people the Salvation Army helps could not provide food and shelter for their families.

Now I ride occasionally, and I will probably ride for a long time. I even came up with my own cyclist term: “tmtontydsm” (a term meaning: train more than once next time you do sixty miles!)

Newsroom Memories:

I worked as a photojournalist at the Birmingham Post-Herald, which seized publication this past Friday, from 1990 to 1995. I had a keen sense of sadness on Friday, at the same time; I tried to recount some highlights from my tenure at the “newspaper”. Call me crazy, but there is something romantic about saying “newspaper” in this age of wireless media and pocket-sized, instant information. As I count the ten stories I remember the most, nuances of actual newsroom vignettes come to my recollection.

The photography department sat in the corner of the newsroom far from the entry hallway. Having to walk right by the photo desk was tough on the days I was late. Picture Editor Larry Kasperek would always give me the look the said:” You are late young man” The eight o’clock shift can be too early for anyone in there twenties. Some days, Former editor Jimmy Denly would ring a bell in the middle of the newsroom to make happy announcements whether it was winning an award or receiving a great feedback letter. It was cool to hear the bell; you never knew when they were going to say that you won a gigantic award.

Below are ten stories I remember the most:

1- When the Dessert Storm story broke, I remember watching the sea of anit-aircraft fire streaming out of Baghdad into the night’s sky. Everyone in the newsroom fell in silence. Having been born in Damascus, Syria; the affects of the ethereal site were intolerable. Mixed emotions engulfed me and I had to go home for the rest of that day. My feelings as an Arab-American are still conflicted, while I applaud the freedom the Iraqi people might experience; I realize that embracing freedom peacefully can require time and patience.
2- I covered the fire at the Highland Presbyterian Church on April 8th, 1992. That day, I had a ruptured aneurism in my brain. I was in a coma for a month, and it took me eight months to return to work. The Post-Herald never stopped my paycheck, despite the fact that they never knew if I would ever return to work. As I walk around every day cherishing this gift we call life, I think of how much I owe the Post-Herald.
3- The Birmingham news won the Pulitzer in (19–?) For an editorial series on (tax dollars in Alabama?). I remember feeling huge that day. Despite the fact that I worked for the competing newspaper. All you had to say that you were a journalist in Birmingham and people were extremely impressed. It was rewarding for everyone, and I was proud to be living in this city; which is mostly recognized for its few shameful episodes of hatred and racial divide.
4- Traveling to cover football games was always an exhilarating experience, especially when Alabama won the national championship in 1992. Covering the Iron Bowl always made me feel as if I was on a different planet. I found out quickly that if you live in Alabama, football is not a sport; it’s a lifestyle.
5- I covered a story with Elaine Witt in the woods of Sand Mountain, and I remember feeling as if it was 1950. The people, the houses, the cars, even the puppies looked from that era. I spent a week going back and fourth, stepping from civilization into the past…a very surreal, never the less very real, part of the state. The people were as friendly and sweet as they come, and they were not concerned that their world was isolated. To them, it was a peaceful one. They made me wish I could go back in time…
6- The quilters of Gees Bend became famous after the PBS documentary this year. I remember my first trip to that troubled spot, and the disbelief that engulfed me as I learned about the ferry and the fact that the isolation of the area was “sort off” intentional. I then delved into the history of the black belt and found out how complicated the issue was. It is an unrelenting, viscous cycle of poverty and lack of education keeping that region were it stands today: one of the poorest in the country. . I still to this day wonder how many strides in race relations we have made in making the “Dream” come true
7- Kathy Kemp, who worked at the Post-Herald at the time, and I covered many stories together. I loved her ability to bond with people quickly. One of the memorable ones was the infield at Talladega were the lines of reality were blurred by too much beer. Being an Arab-American, I certainly did not fit the typical fan, and Kathy and I heard a few “comments”. To this day I still think everyone should experience the Talladega infield once.
8- One of Birmingham’s darker moments came when the Shoal Creek administration was quoted saying that they discourage blacks from joining their club. The nation went into a frenzy, and the club quikely denied the charge. Shoal Creek later accepted its first black member. Such stories were tough to live through, but telling them did improve matters…most of the time. I wonder what, then teenager, Tiger Woods thought of the debacle.
9- One evening I covered a paradox of tales. The first one was a cigar aficionados meeting at the Winfry hotel. Over 200 participants gathered in their tuxedos and shared cigars and cigar-stories. Then I traveled across Birmingham to a Launder mat in West End were they conducted a weekly revival. There was shouting and singing, as well as falling backward as the spirit took over. Thank god for the women dressed in white dresses who caught the people losing consciousness. I will never experience two such events in one night. That is the part I miss about my “newspaper”.
10- After an innocent by-stander was gunned down at the Metropolitan Housing Projects, which is now The Hope-6 Development, Kathy Kemp and I spent three months visiting the nieborhood and documenting its shattered lives. After working for magazines for the past ten years and covering a variety of stories from travel and politics to sports and lifestyle, that story remains one of my all time favorites. We named it “Dreams Die Young at 5th Court North”…they did and still do in parts of this city. It felt warm and tender to tell a story that would have gone unnoticed, and my hope was that it motivated someone to change things. And things are changing for the better all the time, at least that is the motto a journalist lives by.

Thank you to all of the Birmingham Post-Herald editors, writers, and photographer who I deem as an unforgettable part of my past. I am a better journalist, and a person, because of the your investment in me.

“Karim Shamsi-Basha is a photojournalist residing in Birmingham. He hopes these and other memories from the Birmingham Post-Herald will reside in his and the readers minds for ever.”

I am often asked to speak about being an Arab in a not-a-good-time-to-be-an-Arab age. When I do I always struggle with the opening joke. A friend of mine came to me rescue at a conference in Dallas. “Tell them a camel joke,” he said, with all seriousness in his eye. He continued: “you know, you are from the Middle East, what could be funnier?” What my friend did not realize was the fact that the first camel I saw was in Tennessee at the Knoxville Zoo.

To sum up to people in this country what is like to live here while being Arab would be like describing a Confederate soldier at a party with Union soldiers after the civil war. Some will ignore him, a few will go out of their way to make him feel comfortable, and a couple might actually take a shot at him…hopefully only using the tongue as a weapon.

What follows are the ten misconceptions about Arabs which I have personally encountered, and still do. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the events of 9/11, and the endless bloodshed in Israel, Lebanon, and Palestine have left people with an extremely one-sided, sensualized, and plain-wrong idea of the make-up of the Arab people.

1- Arabs do not ride camels to work: I grew up in Kuwait, then moved to Damascus, the city of my birth at age 12. Eventually I left Syria for the United States at age 18. In my 18 years in the Middle East, I have never seen a camel. I read about them, saw them on TV, and even had friend who had seen one. For the most part, my back yard included cats and dogs, just like they do here. It did not include big animals with humps, which also spit at you.
2- Arabs are not terrorists: I was attending a wedding in Sacramento California last year for a friend of mine. I during the rehearsal dinner, the bride’s father came up to me, and with an inquisitive look he said: “Are you a terrorist?” That was hardly the first time I have been asked that question, but considering that the bride was a close friend of mine baffled me. I looked at him trying to decipher his attitude: was it joke? Please God, let it be a joke. It was not…he continued his inquisitive look into my eyes waiting for an answer. “No sir, I am not a terrorist,” I said, and then just quietly walked away. Some Arabs have inflicted terrorist acts against humanity, but so have everyone else. Being Arab does not automatically make you capable of hurting people. I know some Arabs that will not swat a fly because it has a “soul”.
3- Arabs are not all Muslim: once a month someone will ask me what Islam is like. I turn around and ask them: “what makes you think I am a Muslim?” Arabs comprise an extremely diverse religious background. Most are Muslim, but a fair percentage is Christian of all denominations. I did grow up Muslim. But after living here for 23 years, I have become to adore Christianity enough to call it mine…and I am very tolerant of many other faiths. I walked to school in Damascus for a mile every day passing two mosques and a church all on the same street. In my senior year, we spent more time that I can remember in my friend’s neighborhood of Bab-Touma. For an odd reason at the time, the girls in that section of town were the prettiest. I was never told by anyone that Bab-Touma was the “Christian” part of town…that was not an issue…pretty girls though…That was definitely the issue for a group of teenage boys. Christian in the Arab world means a mix in the blood line between East and West. We all know the result of a mixture of blood lines: pretty girls!
4- Arabs are not “simple/uneducated” people: My father died at age 88 two years ago leaving a legacy behind him. He was the Poet Laureate of Syria for many years, and wrote over twenty books about Arabic literature. He was honored by the Life Time Achievement Award the year before his death for his efforts to preserve the Arabic language. We are people with education standards that rival and surpass many other countries. I attended the University of Tennessee and majored in Engineering. Arabs were extremely popular as study partners because things like Calculus are thought in Ninth grade in most Arabic countries.
5- Arabs do not all look alike: I was attending a Christmas party here in Birmingham last year which included many of the city’s most influential and educated people. I started a conversation with a man who resembled my father. I was intrigued and I told him about the resemblance. We then exchanged pleasantries about our origins and families, then he added: “Why do Arabs all look the same?” I was taken back just like with the terrorist question at the wedding. I said: “Actually, I doubt we do…” and moved on. People of foreign origin might all look similar because we have the human urge is to lump them into one small category we can label.
6- Arabs have desserts, but they also have cities: Growing up in Damascus was not much different than growing up in New York. Damascus is a city of 5 million people with a downtown that resembles Manhattan. It would take us more than an hour to find a parking spot whenever we were stupid enough to drive downtown. Once we found a spot, we left the car there a long time just to enjoy the sweetness of the event. You would almost want to just sit there and watch your car parked on one of the busiest street in the Syrian Capital, until the tow truck came!
7- Arabs eat more than Falafels and Humus: The next time someone says: “Oh..I love Humus, when they learn I come from an Arab descent; I am going to say: Oh…are you American? I love burgers!” I grew up eating incredible food my mother, the best cook in the world, put on our table. And Humus was rarely on that table. The Arabian cuisine reflects the diverse geographic influences of twenty countries, which border Asia, Europe, and Africa as well as most bodies of water on this planet.
8- Speaking of geography…will you please look at a map? During my 23 years in this country, I have been asked if Syria was in South America, near Fiji, in Europe, in South Africa, close to Russia, and somewhere near Israel. I cannot count the times where I had to draw the Middle East on a bar napkin. I can understand the fact that this country is huge and diverse and very self-sufficient in many things. I am very thankful I live in a country, which for the most part, embraces freedom for its people. What I cannot understand is what makes the rest of the world so eager to know about other countries, while some people I this country are content with a more limited knowledge of this world.
9- Arabs are insanely loving people: I remember seeing my dad cry at the sight of mom on the balcony watering the flowers. I asked him why he is tearing up…looked at me and said: “Have you ever seen a more beautiful creature?” At age ten, I thought he was talking about the flowers…”Weird..” I said and walked away. If you have never dated an Arab or a Mediterranean, you have missed seeing your partner happy to give his or her life for you. My tenth grade was devoted to a neighbor of mine named Sahar, an Arabic word which means magic. And magic she had. I was an A student with some B’s, thrown around just for good luck, during my 9th, 11th, and 12th years; the tenth was dedicated to Sahar. My parents tried everything they knew off, but I was totally dysfunctional. Now that I have been single for five years, I have finally put some walls up to guard my heart, but they are made of glass. My dad, Mr. Poet, told me that my heart was like a piece of land, every time it gets hurt, the land is tilled; and is better suited for the next harvest.
10- Arabs are not the enemy: Ignorance is. The more we know about each other, the more peaceful our lives will be. The flip side to all the violence around us is that it is making people desire to learn more. And with learning, barriers crash and enemies based on ignorance tolerate each other. I went scuba diving in the Caribbean while I was on a cruise a few years ago, after I woke up late one day and, how do you say…hung-over? I saw this big Manatee approach me. I turned to look for my partner seeking refuge since she had scuba dived for years, but she was gone. I was fifty feet below the surface all alone with this giant thing, which was coming to eat me for breakfast. All I could think off was what an awful way to die. I started remembering the details of the morning and how bad my headache was, and how I did not want to scuba dive. My friend was insistent, so we did…and now it is going to be over. I knew nothing about these animals. I knew what to do in case you see a shark, besides praying, but Manatees? What were these things…what did they eat? That was the question hovering between my eyes and my foggy goggles. I stayed still and looked at the giant. She got close. I would like to think it was a she, somehow that made things a little better…she got close and started swimming all around me. I could see the spear in the tail, I could have touched it. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed. The gorgeous body of this giant was gliding through the water with no resistance…and no wake. It was as if she was made of water as well…the two surfaces, her body, and the water, were molten together at touch. You hear about magical moments though out your life, and this was definitely one. The giant swam around me several times, and then hovered. I took a breath thinking she was going to unleash the spear. But it just glided away as if to say: “no…you don’t look yummy enough…and your breath…did you brush your teeth this morning?” I hurried to the top counting my blessings. It was not until a few years later that I realized, what terrified me about the Manatee was my ignorance of everything about it. Now that I have read all you could fin about that elegant creature, I look forward to another encounter. And I will brush my teeth!

Hope is quite
like a butterfly wing,
Or wild flowers playing a silent symphony,
in the calm wind.

Hope feeds our souls.
It is as gentle as a dew drop.
It makes me strong, brave, and proud;
It makes me never stop.

Hope is humble
like a mustard seed,
it moves mountains with its tiny might,
a courageous deed.

Hope is a whisper
Yet I can still hear it loud and clear.
I just listen with my heart and know,
God’s love is near.