Letter Writing Task 26/03/2014

This letter has been translated from the original Arabic written in the hand of Hind AlQaisy. It was found on the person of Jim Biers at his passing on 05/02/2014 whilst a resident at the Rose Cottage Care Home. Dearest Jim, I have counted the days since you left. It has now been 16 . I am sure that by the time you get this letter many more days will have passed. Everyday I take time to medidate on the moment that we met outside the Bakdash Ice Cream Parlour. I was so desperate that day for a pistachio studded dome concocted of mastic and rose water that I had been salivating all the way to the store. I had been saving up for one of these delights for what seemed like an age. And finally I had it, my hands cupping the icy cool glass momentarily chilling me as I sauntered through the damascene heat. However I was not destined to savour my treat. I tripped on a rogue cobblestone. Myself and the ice cream parted. The ice cream thrown into an arc in the air and myself falling into a heap onto the ground at your feet. You picked me up off the floor amidst my shame and embarrassment. Thank you for doing that and for pushing through the crowds of the souk to buy me another ice cream and that is why I am writing this letter. I am now leaning against the wall of the Temple of Jupiter. It is dusk and the sun is desperately throwing its last rays onto the temple facade colouring it a faboulous apricot. Meanwhile the crowds throng underneath the arches of the ancient temple. Many are rushing to the Umayyid Mosque in time for prayers as the Muezzin's call pierces the air. I used to walk under the arches of the temple everyday, just like these people, with no thought for the majesty of the place; the Temple of Jupiter which held grand festivals to commemorate its eponymous god for the whole of the Roman Empire to attend. I did not know that so much important history was in my local area until you mentioned it to me. We are not taught very much about our own history. My people are more concerned about other things; revolutions, freedom from occupiers. That was why I was sceptical about when you at first. When you handed over that secound round of ice cream to me a storm of questions came through my mind. The top one being why a foreigner was helping me. Your command of arabic helped to earn my trust. I am now glad that I accepted your offer of touring through the old Hammediyah Souk which is attached to the ruins of the old temple and now the medieval mosque. Your animated descriptions of old Damascus brought the ancient city to life for me. I see it with completely different eyes now and I am grateful for that. It has given meaning to my city and indeed my life. As a result of this new knowledge I have changed my degree program from Arabic Literature to Ancient History. We do not have many books on the subject but I found one in the University Library. As you know my English is not very strong so I asked one of my Professors to assist me. I hope we remain in contact so I can explore my new found knowledge further with you. I am also starting to learn English so I can hopefully write letters to you in your language one day as well as read all the books on this amazing subject. Unfortunately most of them are either in French or English or German. Perhaps when you are next here I can show you my ever growing collection. Until we meet again, Hinda Hinda and Jim did meet again, many times. Initially Jim returned to Damascus to continue his archeological work on the temples of the Near East and the role of religion in the Eastern Roman Empire. He met with Hinda countless times and they would work on projects together. Their work taking them across the rolling dunes of the desert to ancient towns; Aleppo, Palmyra, Mosul, Baalbek to name a few. This was much to the consternation of Hinda's parents who disapproved of her unladylike activities. I am very proud of Hinda, my mother, for being the progressive woman that she was. She went against cultural norms pursuing the man and subject that she loved. The passing of my father truly saddened me. He was a highly intelligent man who spent his last years in a muddled fog and I have published this letter as a tribute to the kind, generous and gentle man that he was. It is also a tribute to Damascus, the city that my parents met and loved in. They were both awed by its history and diversity which has been forgotten by the world. We now only hear of human tragedy emanating from that city and my late parents would have been truly saddened by this. I pray that one day Damascus finds peace and I pray that the souls of my parents are now reunited .