RANDOM HANDSHAKES - ALI H. RADDAOUI

إلى مُتْرفِي الفكر على اليسار وعلى اليمين، صرِّفوا إيديولوجياتكم أفعالا تنفع الناس

2012-01-26T23:48:00.000+01:00

1. تقديم ذاتي: قد يتبادر لقارئ العنوان أني باستخدام عبارتي اليمين واليسار أحاول أن أسوق نفسي على أن وسطي بحكم أن الوسطية موقع مُحبّب ومريح ويكاد يكون موقعا متفرجا أو هو كذلك. حقيقة الأمر أني لازلت بصدد بلورة فكري وفكرتي وليس لي بد من التصنيف واستخدام مسميات متعارف عليها حتى أستطيع أن أقول جملة مفيدة يمكن تبليغها للقارئ دون عناء صياغة مسميات جديدة ستكون هي بدورها في حاجة إلى التفسير والتوضيح والتعليل. إلا أني أحاول أن أوحي من خلال هذا التدخل بضرورة وجود ترابط وثيق بين الفكر أو العقيدة أو الإيديولوجية من ناحية ومرادفها على الأرض أي الفعل أو الحركة من ناحية ثانية. فالفكر الذي ينأى بنفسه عن الدخول في حلبة الحياة يبقى ضربا من ضروب الترف التي ربما تجعل صاحبه ينتشي بخمرته ولكن علاقته بالواقع المعاش على المستوى الاجتماعي منعدمة وعليه، فذلك الفكر يظل مثل حدث يحدث في كوكب آخر ولا يؤثر كثيرا على مجريات الأمور لعامة الناس على الأرض. أما بالنسبة للفعل، فإنه من الصعب ألّا تكون له مرجعية فكرية حتى وإن لم يكن فاعله قد صاغ فكره بطريقة متكاملة ومتماسكة. فالفعل عادة ما يحمل في طياته وعاء فكريا يحكم الحركة، وهو بذلك ليس بالعمل العشوائي بل يستند إلى منظومة فكرية على درجة ما من التبلور. خلاصة حديثي في نقطة التعريف بنفسي أنني أموضع نفسي في سياق يقول أنه على المتواجدين داخل حلبة الصراع الإيديولوجي أيا كانت مشاربهم ألا يكتفوا بتأجيج الصراع مع مناوئيهم بل أن يترجموا خلافاتهم إلى أعمال تنفع الناس. فإن لم تفض الخلافات الفكرية إلى أعمال تعود بالنفع على المجتمع فيمكن اعتبارها عقيمة إلى حد ما ويمكن اعتبار أصحابها ظواهر صوتية هامشية وخارجة عن السياق العام الذي نحتاج فيه لفعل إيجابي يحسِّن الصالح العام ويرقى به.

2. من المقصود بمترفي الفكر من اليمين واليسار؟ قد لا تكون هناك حاجة للإجابة لأن السؤال هنا يحمل جوابه، ولكني أمهد للإجابة بقولي أننا وبحكم تكويننا اعتدنا على التورية والإيشاء والايحاء والإشارة غير المباشرة والحذر في تسمية الأشياء بمسمياتها. وبالنظر إلى الثورة التي قضت على الخوف وطنيا وعربيا، فإنه من الضروروي التحرر من عاهة اللف والدوران ولهذا، فإني سوف أستمسحكم في أن ألفّ قليلا وأدور لأقول بعد ذلك أن المقصود بالتحديد في هذا المقال مؤججو الخلافات العقدية والإيديولوجية في الجامعة التونسية الذين ارتأوا أن يجعلوا من الجامعة حلبة صراع بين المنقبات من جهة والمؤمنين بالنظريات المادية اليسارية من جهة ثانية.

النقاط على الحروف: وإن كان لا مفر من استخدام عبارات أخرى متعارف عليها، فإنه يمكنني القول بالرغم من تحفظي على استهلاك العبارتين أن الناس بدأت تسأم الصداع الحاصل من النزال اليومي بين من يسمون علمانيين وإسلاميين. شاهدت هذا الصباح على إحدى صفحات الفيس بوك كرتونا دار فيه حوار بسيط بين مسؤول عليه علامات الترف والشبع ومواطن ذي لحية كثة وثياب رثة:

المسؤول: هل أنت علماني أم إسلامي؟

المواطن: أنا بطال... اعطيني خدمة وبعد تو نخبرك.

3. ما المطوب؟ ولست هنا في وارد تغليب كفة أحد على الآخر ولا التقليل من شأن فوائد الاختلاف والصراع والنقاش والتبادل الفكري، ولكني أسوق نقطتين وأشفع كليهما بأمثلة.

· أولا، لقد قامت الثورة ضد الاستئصال والتفرد ورفض الآخر. فمهما كان انتمائي الفكري، فليس هذا مدعاة لأن أحكم على من اختلف معي بأن ليس له الحق في التعبير والتواجد معي على نفس المساحة. فأية مساحة على أرض الوطن خارج بيوتنا وممتلكاتنا الخاصة هي مكان عام يحق فيه لأي كان أن يضيف لونه إلى جملة الألوان المتواجدة لا يحق له أن يشرع في إقصاء الآخر أو الشطب عليه أو أخراجه فعليا من الفضاء العام. بل بالعكس، إن أهم ما علمتنا الثورة هو أن نصارع أنفسنا حتى نعتاد على قبول الآخر أيا كان شكله وفكره وهويته، وهذا نوع من الصراع الداخلي بين الانسان ونفسه. عانينا جميعا من الاغتيال الفكري وسمعنا وشاهدنا والبعض منا عايش الاغتيال المادي أثناء حقبة الاستبداد، أما الآن، فيجب أن نهذب أنفسنا ونصقلها ونعاركها ونقنعها بأنه ليس هناك مجال للإقصاء.

· مثال: وحتى نربط هذا الحديث بالواقع، أتصور أن الجالسين والجالسات اليوم تحب قبة البرلمان في تونس قد تعلموا درسا مهما من بعضهم البعض، بقطع النظر عن اتجاهاتهم الفكرية. وبحكم سيف الإقصاء الذي كان مسلطا عليهم جميعا في الماضي، فربما كانت أولى أيامهم في البرلمان المنتخب أياما عجيبة، لأنهم فجأة ودون الكثير من الجاهزية النفسية، وجدوا أنفسهم وجها لوجه مع نطاق واسع من الأفكار والإيديولوجيات تختلف اختلافا جذريا عن تلك التي يحملونها. ربما اندهشوا في الأيام الأولى وثاروا وهاجوا وماجوا وقالوا من أين جاء هذا الغريب علينا بهذه المفردات وفي أي تربة نشأت تلك التي تتبنى هذا الفكر أو تلبس هذا اللباس أو تنطق بهذه اللهجة؟ يا إخوتنا في المواطنة، إسألوا أعضاء الجمعية التأسيسية التونسية كيف كانت نظرتهم إلى الحياة وعن مدى تقبلهم للآخر مباشرة قبل أولى جلسات للبرلمان وقارنوا كيف تغيرت منظومتهم الفكرية بعدما عايشوا طيلة شهرين أو أكثر أناسا آخرين يجلسون إلى جانبهم ويحملون فكرا يختلف عنهم ويصدحون بذلك الفكر. لا شك أن مشوار الاعتياد على قبول تواجد من اختلف معك تحت نفس السقف مشوار صعب وطويل ولكن ذلك هو الدرس الذي يجب على الجميع أن يتعلمه الآن في جامعات تونس أو خارجها.

· ثانيا، لقد أفرزت الثورة طاقات كانت إما مقموعة أو صامتة أو منخرطة في النظام السابق دون رضاها أو حتى متواطئة معه، وفتح الشعب بكافة أطيافه باب الثورة وضمن حق الاختلاف وحرية التعبير، ولذلك، فإني أقول أنه لم يعد هناك ما يمنع من أن نترجم أفكارنا وتصوراتنا وإيديولوجياتنا إلى واقع ملموس وفعل محسوس. يا أخوتنا في الوطن، يا من تحملون مبادئ ومثلا ونظريات، هذا الزمن زمنكم، حرروا أفكاركم من السجون التي كان محكموما عليها أن تظل حبيسة فيها، أخرجوا أفكاركم إلى حيز الوجود، اعملوا، ترجموا أقوالكم أفعالا. لا تكتفوا بتبادل الأفكار مع من يوافقونكم الرأي وتشتموا من يخالفكم، ولا تحبسوا أنفسكم في أبراجكم العاجية، أخرجوا إلى الأرض وأفيدوا الناس والمحتاجين. وإن كُتب لكم أن تعيشوا حياة الرفاه وأن تتجاذبوا أطراف الحديث عن نظرياتكم وكم سيكون العالم جميلا فيما لو تم وضع تلك النظريات موضع التنفيذ، فهبوا لذلك التنفيذ وقدموا المساعدة للذين لم يعرفوا في حياتهم الترف الفكري وظلوا يعانون من قلة ذات اليد. البطال والجائع والمهمش والفقير والطالب الذي حالت الظروف دون مواصلته التعلم، كل هؤلاء، لا يأكلون النظريات ولا يتعشون الكتب، ولا يملأون أحشاءهم بالنقاشات الزائفة، وإنما يحتاجون منكم بوقفة صادقة، بعمل حقيقي، بفعل يساعدهم على الرقي بحياتهم اليومية. خلافاتكم الفكرية جزء من حياتكم ولستم مدعوين لنسيانها أو طرحها جانبا، بل أنتم في أمس الحاجة لوضعها على المحك حتى تعرفوا مدى صلاحيتها والتصاقها بالواقع ووقعها على المجتمع.

· مثال: عوض أن تمر السنة الجامعية وأنتم تديرون هذا الصراع السلبي، أنجزوا عملا حقيقيا. أنشأوا مؤسسات تقدم خدمات للمحتاجين في مجتمعنا، أقيموا برنامج منح لمساعدة الطلاب والتلاميذ المعوزين، كونوا جمعيات خيرية، اتفقوا يوما على الخروج معا لتنظيف المحيط من أكياس البلاسيتك والقمامة، قوموا بزيارات ميدانية لأحياء الصفيح وتبرعوا بوقتكم ومالكم لمساعدة الناس على بناء منازلهم أو استكمالها أو طلائها، اذهبوا إلى الأرياف كما يفعل البعض في تونس الآن وعايِنوا وضعيات من لم يسمعوا بخلافاتكم، اجمعوا تبرعات عينية ومالية وحولوا بها شقاء الناس إلى بسمة. قوموا ببناء مؤسسات مجتمع مدني حقيقية ومراكز بحث استراتيجي لاستشراف المستقبل -- وانفضوا عنكم غبار التنابز وتنافسوا فيما ينفع الناس.

4. خاتمة: إن هي إلا أشهر قليلة مهما بعدت وسنكون على موعد مع الانتخابات. تاريخ كل فرد وكل حزب وكل حركة محفوظ وممارستها اليومية في الحفاظ على مكتسبات الثورة ومساهمتها الفعلية في تحسين الوضع الاجتماعي والمدني والسياسي والاقتصادي العام تحت مجهر الشعب والشعب يعرف كيف يجازي من خدمه وكيف يعاقب من سعى لإدخاله في متاهات ودومات لا طائل من ورائها. وبحساب الربح والخسارة الضيقة، سوف يقارن الشعب الكريم أقوالكم بأفعالكم ، وسيكون صاحب القول الفصل في من يرتضيه لقيادة الوطن.

التسريع بإنشاء إعلام مساند للشرعية في تونس ضرورة قصوى يمليها الظرف العصيب

2012-01-23T01:25:00.000+01:00

نجحت الثورة التونسية كما لم تنجح ثورة أخرى في استكمال أسس النظام الديمقراطي التعددي وخلقت مناخ حرية استوى فيه لأول مرة في تاريخ تونس المواطن والمسؤول وانتفى فيه الخوف من أن تلحق السلطة المنتخبة أي نوع من أنواع الظلم بالمواطن لأن الثورة قامت أساسا في وجه الاستبداد والطغيان ولأن الشعب خَبِر آلية إسقاط ماكينة الاسبتداد. ولكن الحقيقة أن الأمر بلغ مستويات من التسامح والحرية جعلت المناوئين للشرعية يستفيدون من هذا المجال الواسع للانقلاب عليها ووضع عراقيل تحول دون ممارستها للإصلاحات الموعودة. وبعد أن تمت دمقرطة الأطر الدستورية بما فيها المجلس التأسيسي ورئاسة الدولة والحكومة، لا يزال هناك مجال واحد لم تتمكن الأطر الشرعية من إخراجه من دوره المناهض للثورة ، ألا وهو مجال الإعلام. بقيت أهم وسائل الإعلام المرئية والمسموعة تبث أفكارا وممارسات تمثل الأحزاب والتنظيمات التي حكم عليها صندوق الانتخاب بالفشل الذريع، ولا بد من القول أن الوضع الحالي كما تصوره وسائل الإعلام التونسية في معظمها يعتبر انقلابا على الشرعية ومؤيدا للاعتصامات العشوائية وأهم رافد من روافد الثورة المضادة.

***

وفي رأيي أن الإعلام أضحى آخر موقع أو جبهة يجب على الشرعية التعامل معها بكل تبصر وعلى جناح السرعة وإلا، فإن الإجراءات العملية والمحسوسة التي اتخذتها الحكومة وستتخذها في الأيام والأسابيع والأشهر القادمة في سبيل الشروع في تحقيق أهداف الثورة إن على مستوى القضاء على الفساد أو استحداث فرص الشغل لن يبلغ صداها إلى المواطن العادي الذي لا يزال يستقي أخباره من وسائل الإعلام المضاد. وكما أسلفت، فإنه وإن تم إرساء الشرعية على مستويات الحكم، فإن الإعلام الحالي يعمل ليل نهار لسحب البساط من تحت الحكومة المنتخبة وإسقاطها وجعلها تظهر في مظهر العاجز المترتبك وغير المؤهل لإدارة البلد.

***

وبالنظر إلى أن الرهان يتعلق بمستقبل تونس ومستقبل الشرعية الدستورية فيها، فإني أرى أن من أَوْكد الأولويات في هذه اللحظة الراهنة إنشاء محطات إعلامية مرئية ومسموعة في تونس حالا وبدون تأخير لتعكس باستقلالية وموضوعية وحيادية الخطوات التي تقوم بها الحكومة ولتقدم للمتابعين نسخة موازية للنسخة التي تقدمها وسائل الإعلام المتحاملة وذلك حتى لا يطغى الإعلام المضاد على المشهد ويتم توظيفه لابتزاز التونسيين وجرهم إلى فقدان الثقة في الأطر المنتخبة. ولست أتحدث هنا عن إنشاء أعلام حكومي زائف ومطبل يسعى لتلميع صورة الحكومة بل إعلاما يقف على نفس المسافة من الائتلاف الحكومي والمعارضة المتواجدين تحت سقف البرلمان. إن الإعلام في هذه اللحظة المفصلية هو موقع الصراع الحقيقي ومن خسر معركته، فكأنما خسر نصيبا كبيرا من منجزاته وغض الطرف عن تيارات تعمل لتعجيزه وقتله معنويا.

***

في تقديري أن إنشاء محطة تلفزية أمر جد هين من الناحية الفنية وغير مكلف من وجهة النظر المالية، ويعتبر عدم تفعليه خطأ جسيما على الثورة ومنجزاتها ومستقبلها. وسواء تعلق الأمر بإحداث قناة تلفزية أو قنوات إذاعية وطنية وجهوية، فإني أجزم أن المسألة لا تعدو تقنيا أن تكون أكثر من غرفة للبث يسهر عليها خيرة شبان الوطن وشاباته من المختصين والمهنيين والأكفاء. إما تكاليف الإنشاء ومعاشات الكادر الساهر عليها، فأتصور أن هناك من التونسيين من هم قادرون على تمويلها وراغبون في اقتناص هذه الفرصة التاريخية لإرساء الشرعية وتثبيتها وتمكينها من المجال الحيوي الذي هو حقها بحكم نتائج صندوق الاقتراع.

***

وفي هذا الصدد، أقترح أن يتم إعداد مسودة تتداولها الجهات المختصة وتنكب عليها للخروج بتصور سريع ومرحلي وقابل للتنفيذ ويستفيد من الخبرات التونسية العالية والمتوافرة في مجال الإعلام والصحافة والبث الإذاعي والفضائي والعنكبوتي.

الحصار

2012-01-02T14:17:00.002+01:00

أيتها الهوجاء عودي

تراجعي، ارتدي

كُفّي، انكفئي

تقهقري من حيث جئت

من غياهب الظلمة

اجمدي، تجمدي، أيبسي، تيبسي، تحنطي

وضعنا دون خروجك

سياجا وسياجا وسياجا...

لا تحلل، لا تضمر، لا تجهر، ولا تهمس

أيتها الهوجاء استسلمي، نامي

توسدي أضغاث أحلامك

الضمير الغائب مستتر، متستر

جلده ما عاد يعرف القيظ ولا الزمهرير

تكلست عيناه في الظلمة

نسي الألوان كلها

نسيت أذناه صدى الأصوات

أيتها الهوجاء انبطحي

انتحري، اندحري

نسي التاريخ قلمه

جهاز الرصد وقع في قاع المحيطات

دون قوقعة

مات

أنكرت وكالات الأنباء وجوده، سقوطه، موته

أيتها الهوجاء أدركك الليل

اجتثي غدد الدمع من عينيك

تدثري بكساء سميك من التراب

امسحي ذاكرة النور لديك

توسدي تاريخك السرمدي

إلى حيث انتهى

وانته،

انته

أنت

أنت العاصفة

...

فتهاوت

وهوت

واهية

حرب النجمين، الفصل الأخير من معاهدة الثريا - عيوق

2011-11-14T05:02:00.002+01:00

الشخصيات: هاتف يقدم مشهدا مألوفا وأليفا، يليه حوار بين الثريا ومرافقها على الدوام في السماء، عيوق

المشهد الأول

يتغني من مكان مجهول في خلفية الزمان، تستمع إليه الكائنات بإنصات شديد، فلا يتوقف صدى كلامه

الهاتف

مذ شُتِل الكون تهامسوا

والقمرُ زاهٍ تماسكوا

في ضحى الشمس تآنسوا

وفي دجى الليل تسامروا

ولما نادي الفجر تلامسوا

سَبحَوا في الفلك وسبَّحوا

جمعا سرمديا...

ترابطوا، تعانقوا، تناصروا، تصاهروا

"نحن خلان الفضاء

فيما انقضى من عمرنا وما أتى

فلا الأزمان تفصلنا

ولا النفاثات ترحينا."

المشهد الثاني

في الخلفية جبل شاهق ينفث دخانا، وصوت حشرجة لآخر ديناصور مشى على الأرض

عيوق

ذات صبح أو مساء

لا يهم تفصيلا متى

حدق عيوق في عين الثريا

وانبرى

آه، يا الثريا، أنا باق ها هنا

يا الثريا، اقبريني، ثم روحي

أنا ما عندي مدى

عيناك في الأفق دواما

لا تراني من أنا

أنت جمع وأنا وحدي

منذ سافرنا معا

أنت دوما تتلهين

بوجهك

وتنساني أنا

طلعتك يُكتب عنها دواوين وأشعار

وأنا، من أنا، ليس عندي حضوة

إذ لا أُرى

ها هنا منتهى نوري

ها هنا تنتهي ناري

فارقيني فأنا سأبقى ها هنا

المشهد الثالث

صورة لقوس قزح معكوس الألوان والاتجاه تظهر شيئا فشيئا

الثريا

أنسيت يا أُخَيْ

عهدنا عندما كنا صغارا

لا تفرقْ شملنا

فنحن في المخيال واحد

لا نُرى إلا معا

تعرفنا أهازيج النيل

وجبال الهملايا

وسنديان الآمزون

وأخاديد بحيرة فكتوريا

هيا، انفض عنك غبار الجفاء

فلا تستوي طلعتي إلا بك

نوفمبر - كانون الثاني 2011

MEMOIRS OFA RETIRED LOCOMOTIVE

2011-08-18T12:55:00.001+01:00

Some seven years before I’d reached locomotive retirement age, a committee of experts met one Sunday afternoon behind closed doors and decided with one or two abstentions that I should either tender my resignation or be terminated. The debate was so very heated with warning signs all over. Thus, I thought best to draft my resignation, sign it and submit it there and then. It wasn’t immediately clear to me why this course of action appealed to the board of directors, but I did notice that a number of brand new cadre were injected into the pipeline who insinuated that I was more like unwanted, outdated stuff. For the sake of keeping a seeming of normalcy, a retirement ceremony was organized right after I had submitted my resignation letter. There was lots of honking and whistling, which was the normal thing to do on occasions like these, and at the end of the ceremony, I was whisked to a hangar not too far from company headquarters, to rust there, permanently.
****
In that hangar, I met a number of locomotives that had undergone a similar fate. There was a multitude of tracks, each with one or more locomotive parked on it. Mine happened to be sort of center left at that time, though the distribution has been shifting rightwards slowly over the years. On either side of me, there were locomotives that sat, silently. Some of them bore dates of many years earlier, and the flags painted on their sides were not readily visible as so much dust had settled on them.
****
Come to think of it, there was really nothing to jump up and down about with regard to my new forced-retiree status. It wasn’t bad either. I have had plenty of time to cogitate on life and its unexpected turns. All over the place, there were other locomotives that were, too, consuming time, waiting and watching, not waiting for anything really, and not expecting any major events to rock the stillness of the place. It was in a way a sort of exile for trains that had served for many, many years, not much of a punishment, but not a rewarding life either. From time to time, a company clerk would pop in on us, make a random check on some of us, and then leave. That was about the only occasion when the hangar lights were turned on, but as soon as the clerk left, we would all return to a life of silence and obscurity.
****
The winter nights were particularly cold. We could feel rain water from outside running underneath our iron wheels, and gusts of wind slapping us through broken glass windows and other apertures. For one reason or another, it was decided that the hangar gates would remain open at least one day a week, maybe because the smell of diesel and dead lubricants would be so nauseating if there were no draft circulating freely. Sometimes, in the dead of winter, stray dogs would find refuge among us. I didn’t know what it was that told these dogs to refrain from barking; they may be too hungry to bark anyway, but it was likely that they intuitively understood barking would cause company bosses to order the guards to chase them out.
****
Summers, too, dragged on forever. Here we were all packed in one place, under temperatures almost calculated to evoke a desire for revenge. Worse still, because our engines were shut off, we couldn’t release those huffing noises trains produce as they start their screech when coming to a standstill so passengers could disembark or board.
****
There were times when I felt that I nearly forgot that honking sound I often made as I approached villages in the middle of the night. That was a time when I was in the prime of youth, furrowing the land and making my presence felt among scattered country homes, villages and even those packed slum areas where the railroads passed. Retirement, I came to understand, was a time when you were forced to burrow in, to build a wall around yourself, and to stop the good old habit of saluting other locomotives with a loud honk as you ran parallel one, or as you had to wait for another because there was just two railway lines. Life, with a purpose, was pretty exciting and was definitely worth living.
****
It is probable that the rails underneath me are suffocating because I have been standing on them for far too long. When I was a young train, I had no sense of gravity; the business of being a locomotive meant that we had lots of power pulling or pushing one way or another. There were times when we maneuvered, back-tracked, or stood on the side for a while, but most of the time, our life was one of motion. The one occasion I still remember to this day was at eight in the morning; new railways lines were being inaugurated, and the honor was mine to make the first descent down to the very end of land. It was true that the end of the railways was marked with what was probably a one meter thick wall, and though that wall looked permanent, I knew, in hindsight, that it was only erected to be destroyed one day so extensions could take place and new directions charted.
****
I have been sitting here for many, many years. It may be that I am gaining in age, as I am nearly starting to forget the last time I drove or was driven. It didn’t really matter, there were many drivers who sat on this seat, but eventually, none of them lasted forever. I didn’t either, or maybe I did. I, the engine, was there, and could, sort of, move myself; perhaps I could even use my auto-pilot, and cruise for hours on end, uninterrupted, until I was to reach the next big destination. I am now starting to feel some itching in my iron wheels; their shape, it seems to me, has started to slightly bend under the sheer pressure of my weight. O, am I getting stuffy or what? My eyes, with their once-dazzling lamp lights across the nights of the country and the brouhaha of the city haven’t been put to use since last time the engine was fired. In fact, I am not even sure that my spark plugs are working properly as they too have been dormant, idle, and downright inactive for over four decades now.
****
Friends around me in this abandoned place are saying that within a few weeks of their service being discontinued, they noted large increases in the rat population who had a nightly go at their electric wires and their many hoses. I can still feel something in the engine of my belly, but it’s not nearly as distinct a feeling as I used to get when I was driving at record speed in my heydays. A few days ago, I observed a fellow locomotive being disassembled by an army of engineers who apparently needed some spare parts to fix another locomotive, and I saw the lid of my colleague’s diesel tank removed, and boy! The fuel inside had solidified and was discolored beyond recognition. When they wanted to dispose of the lubricants, the drainage pipe was simply clogged, and a horrible stench was released, which drove away rats in their swarms. I’m not surprised at that, as this septuagenarian gentleman of a locomotive had served for nearly forty years and was then confined to some kind of solitary existence after the country in which it was made expressed its dismay at the recent purchase of locomotives from a competitor in another part of the world.
****
Though I wasn’t very much upset that this same fate would be befall me, I have lately seen around me an unusual kind of commotion. First off, three engineers came to inspect me some two weeks ago. The locomotives on either side me played dead, having witnessed the fate of their brother locomotive. Though they were not leading any level of existence commensurate with a lifetime of service, they probably considered a vegetating life better than seeing their organs grafted onto other living things. Two days after that initial visit, I was taxied out of the hangar. I could see the station where I had served ages ago. It’s now a lot bigger than when I left, but it looked like it had been burned. In the distance, I could hear the deafening voices of thousands of people marching and there was a distinctly familiar smell of burning tires blackening an already cloudy January day. Marchers were carrying banners and flags. Strangely enough, it was not the same flag that was perched with pride on the mast of the company building when I was serving.
****
In what looked like a rush job that lasted just a over a week, my engine was tuned up, with a new carburetor, a like-new diesel tank, a set of seven and seven spark plugs in different locations of my 1500 horse power engine in replacement of my ageing plugs, a refurbished horn, a glaring coat of paint on my front end, and what not. Experts argued for a while, but it seemed they were under pressure to act fast, and consensus was reached in my presence and with my approval that was no need for a new transmission. The one originally fitted onto me when I was made back in the forties was good enough and was capable of withstanding a reasonable extension of service.
****
Now, I am all fired up and ready to go. As I centrally stand in Central Station, people, young and old, are boarding me. Some think I’m brand new, but others are inquisitively looking me in the eye, as if I were a familiar old train with a facelift.
****
I do not so much mind the new flag just painted in the place of the old one on the sides of me before my second coming. Within a few months of running, I am sure the heat inside me will help deface this layered coat of paint. I will be myself again in due time, and will run at my own pace, as before.
****
The lifeworlds of the locomotives herein described are fictitious. Any resemblances to real locomotives on active duty, retired or dead, is purely coincidental.
****
Ali H. Raddaoui is an associate professor of Arabic and Linguistics at the University of Wyoming in Lramie.

ASH-BOUND

2011-04-04T21:31:00.016+01:00

Sand in my hourglass
Slowly seeps down
At eventide.
The sea is slowly
Turning its hourglass
Upside down.
I twist my hourglass
By the isthmus
And submit the sand
To the crematory of the soul
And blow its ashes
Into the Sea.

PARDON ME, YOUR HONOR

2011-01-30T23:58:00.000+01:00

Pardon me, Your Honor,
Ahmed Basha Bey
Appointee of the High Gate,
Illustrious Sultan of Istanbul
Paramount Leader of these vast dominions
From the Bosporus
Till the Great Rif Mountains,
I won’t preside over a hollow
Cardboard court;
I am, if it doesn’t ill-suit your Honor
Ill-suited to regurgitate my cue;
Theater, I have come to appreciate,
Is more of an aspiration
Than a carefully-staged rehearsal of reality.
If you be prosecutor and lawyer
And in every case, acting arbiter
Then retirement outside
The outer walls of the court
More befits the Audience and the Press corps.
The plaintiff, Ah! what the huck!
He already is in tune with the verdict;
He knows better than to think of theater as hope
For he, in tune with the audience,
Already carries his hearse.
Pardon me, Your Honor,
I won’t preside over a hollow
Cardboard court.

NUMBERS SHOWDOWN

2011-01-20T06:50:00.002+01:00

A pair of negative and positive numbers with the same absolute value are plotting to bring down Zero and establish an equation where they both coalesce on an 0-X-Y graphic, despite the distance. They each have their personal reasons for doing this, but Zero knows its value, and is not ruffled by the conspiracy.

********
Plus Seven and its mirror friend
Below the X line
Spoke by LAN
And hatched a Zero-less plan:
To squeeze the span
Dividing them,
Sandwich the Zero in-between
And banish it in a no-time zone
Until after the end of time.
***
Plus Seven foresaw
Zero could go
It was, after all, a pedestal
Of Six steps ago
With time passing, she thought
The ladder got firmly glued
Its base only a foot from the bottom
In the event it were to sustain a fall,
There wouldn’t be much to fall
Slide down it would
Or elongate just a bit.
***
Minus Seven
Was mindless of Zero
Treated it as distance
To fold until
It reached Plus Seven above
With no feelings to harbor
Except the thought
Zero was a spatial landmark
In the middle of the path
So Seven Below agreed,
without ill-plan
For zero to be banned…
***
And Zero, well, Zero was oblivious
He knew, without Him,
No Equations could stand
He tucked Himself to a belt
And hurled it a measure to the left
And blew a spell
On the trail
Where the twain
Were to melt.
****

Ali H. Raddaoui. Laramie, Wyoming, February 27, 2010

همس آخر الليل

2010-10-23T03:14:00.004+01:00

في دجى ما قبل الفجرِ
كنا نجرِي
في طريقٍ لا تضاريسَ له
فركت عيناها الجبالُ والهضابُ
وتوضتْ
بندًى من هزيعِ الليلِ
همست في السرِ
صلواتِ السترِ
لما هبَ ومن دب من خلقِ
على أديمِ الأرضِ ساعٍ
أو في الفضاءِ الشاسعِ سارٍ

بهدًى من قدْسِ المكانِ
خففَ الوطأَ خليلي
لما جاءتْ تتهادى
بخُطى الهادئِ
أنثى غزالْ
حدقتْ في النور برْهة
ثم شقتْ
تحت جنجِ الفجرِ
إلى حيث الأمانْ

في أمانْ

الأستاذ علي الهاشمي رداوي في قراءة لقصيدة أبو القاسم الشابي

2010-10-06T03:02:00.004+01:00

إن هي إلا محاولة أولى لمزيد التعريف بالشعر العربي. اخترت لكم في البداية قصيدة الشاعر التونسي المرموق أبو القاسم الشابي والتي عنوانها: سأعيش رغم الداء والأعداء. وإن كان من بين القراء من يريد أن أستضيفه في قراءة لهذه القصيدة أو لغيرها، فسوف أكون سعيدا بذلك على أن يرسل لي وثيقة صوتية أو فيديو أتولى شخصيا عرضه في الموقع مع الشكر المسبق

A reading of poem by Hilaire Belloc titled "Tarantella" in the voice of Ali H. Raddaoui

2010-10-05T01:47:00.005+01:00

This time, I am opting for a video blog. Not that the words are mine -I wish they were - but this is a video recording of a poem by Hilaire Belloc titled TARANTELLA, in my voice. I have come to like this piece for its stunning musical effects and rather deep, sobering meaning. This poem is descriptive of two situations, before and after. The poet recreates the life and commotion that were characteristic of an inn for a very long time, and celebrates in words, music, and rhythm, a jovial and lively scene. Then comes a sudden closure where a completely new picture is painted, one where the whole of first scene is wiped out only to be replaced by the sound of a torrent that must have swept the inn and its brouhahah into oblivion. It is now mere memory. Thank you for watching.

Ali H. Raddaoui, reading a poem by Hilaire Belloc titled: TARANTELLA.

WORKING WITH SOCIAL SOFTWARE: GOOGLE DOCS AS AN EXAMPLE

2010-07-03T11:44:00.009+01:00

The idea behind Google docs is that of collaboration among networked students, employees or citizens all over the world. Google docs is a free social software provided by Google. What it does is to create, maintain, edit and save documents in the cloud that you can invite others to view and/or edit, as you deem appropriate. In other words, this document is not on your hard drive, it’s in on the internet and it can be accessed, edited, and enriched 24/7 from any computer with an internet connection by anyone you wish to share it with. It comes with a user-friendly menu is similar to any word processing software like MS Word or Open Office Text document, and so there is little that you have to learn anew. Here is a screenshot of the program in use:

Compared to sending documents back and forth using email attachments, and receiving feedback or copies with edits on them effected by the senders, Google docs is a real-time collaboration tool. Here is how I have used it with my University of Wyoming students in one of the courses I have taught this year.

***

Firstly, you need a reason to use it. Very often, instructors ask students to write individual reports, papers or answers to an assignment. For the course I was teaching, the assignment was for students to write a paper on how Americans perceive Arabs. Much work was needed to get this paper ready, including conducing a decent literature review, agreeing on the methodology, learning enough about the ethics involved in data collection and the protection of subjects, and so on. In the end, we agreed to prepare a jointly-authored document and make a public presentation of our work. Each of the six students enrolled in the course chose to take care of one section of the presentation, to make that part readily available for viewing and enrichment by all other students. Google docs was the perfect host. Students were encouraged to work on the joint document both in the classroom and at home. Most of the work took place in the classroom though, and we agreed that there was no place for an inflated ego. Anything that appeared on the document was subject to scrutiny and editing by all. The merit of Google Docs is that it keeps a history of its own development, and so, if we wanted to revert to an earlier version of the document, we could.

***

What have we learned from this exercise? Well, a number of things: (i) Collective authorship is exciting and rewarding. The document quickly starts to take shape and grow in size; each student works on their section while some went a step further and made changes on their classmates’ sections. (ii) The existence of one central document that all participants can work on together simply means that all heads are put together. (iii) Instead of the regular ‘students write for the teacher’ paradigm, now students are writing with and for each other with the teacher facilitating, overseeing and also participating. (iv) Student collective work can be made visible to others that class may wish to invite, and (v) No time is wasted on access, and everyone is on the same page, (vi) Though the work is collective, there is no loss of student individuality; (vii) Students see, first hand, that together, they can create and author content. Because this content is collectively vetted, it has some claim to representing their collective if provisional, truths, understandings, and representations of reality.

***

Two comments are in order on the downside: (i) as usual, some students are more vigorously committed than others. This is a plus for those with potential for organizing and leading, but some may hide behind this collective action, and (ii) while all six students were all busy writing and editing the in-cloud document, it was often the case that clicking on the save button results in the loss of some data that is being inputted by a person other than the one who does the saving.

***

What has your experience been with Google Docs or other collective authorship tools? Have you used them strictly in academic contexts or also outside? What do you think is their potential for learning, teaching and joint content creation?

MY EXPERIENCE WITH SOCIAL SOFTWARE AS A LEARNING TOOL

2010-06-13T11:00:00.002+01:00

Let me just begin with my own brief definition of social software. Social software refers to software programs used to achieve learning and collaboration via the internet among regular individuals as well as between learners and teachers, in addition to, or instead of, traditional, face-to-face teaching in the confines of the classroom. What is characteristic of conventional face-to-face learning paradigm is that the teacher is seen more or less as a source of knowledge whose job is to transmit knowledge to students whose charge is to receive that knowledge. What social software does is to provide a frame where learners stand a much better chance at achieving learning through personal engagement as well as through social networking with the teacher, with their peers and with knowers all around. Though in most cases, the teacher still has monopoly over the goals performance objectives set for the course, students play a more active role in learning individually and collectively.

My experience over the past few years with social software have mostly been with the following platforms: wikis, blogs, GoogleDocs, Elluminate, and GoogleWave. One difference between such platforms and learning management systems (LMS) such as Nicenet, Blackboard, Moodle, and Sakai is the latter tend to be closed spaces where the course is restricted to the students enrolled in it, whereas the former tend to be more open. The other difference is that LMSs have often been conceived as one-way systems of communication where the level of interactivity is generally less than it is with wikis and similar platforms. It is noteworthy that nowadays, the distinction is less straightforward because LMSs like Moodle, Sakai, and Blackboard for example do provide the functionalities of chatting, blogging, and internal messaging. Below is a description and evaluation of my experience with blogs and wikis.

**********

Wikis and blogs
I started using blogs and wikis almost concurrently at the University of Sfax, Tunisia. In one teaching methodology course, I hosted all course materials on a wiki provided by Wetpaint. The course requirements were a set of nine assignments that had to be answered through a blog students had to create either Blogger or WordPress. Despite the difficulties this involved, students, whose digital literacy was pretty for the most part when I gave the course in 2007 valued and enjoyed the experience. Excepting the few whose sole goal was just to hit the pass mark, many felt empowered with having ‘constructed’ a space bearing their own name, biography and photo and displaying content that is mostly theirs. A few of them even initiated reactions to classmates’ work, and it felt like a community of learning was in the making. In hindsight, I realize I should have integrated the writing of a reader response as one of the assignments factoring into the final grade.

**********

Wikis

I also used wikis for student research and created space for each wiki member to host their own research project both at the University of Sfax, Tunisia and the University of Wyoming in Laramie. The idea here was for students to feel accountable for what they write; whereas conventional classroom assignments often meant student had to write for the teacher as main reader and grader, what comes to the fore in this exercise is that students understand the need to target a much wider audience of readers and commentators in addition to the teacher. Their work was no longer something between their rater and themselves but rather involved anyone who chanced to read the research. We are talking of a much wider circle than the classroom or the institution. This could be a world wide audience; knowing your product can be scrutinized and commented upon by anyone inside or outside the group somehow puts you on the spot. With visibility comes greater responsibility. Plagiarism is going to become an issue because the moment a sentence I google appears to be not the result of the author’s genuine work, they realize the importance of intellectual property and that they can only engage in such behavior at their risk and peril.

**********

Another important perk for using wikis is that research writing is seen as a work in progress on display. Students had access to my online comments on a minimum of two to three drafts, and they could easily compare and see, on the same screen, how they have progressed from first to final draft. At the same time, students with poor scores could easily access examples of finer models completed by other students in the group and model them. This is a simple way of harnessing so called ‘collective intelligence’.

**********

What has yet to happen?
The movement from the ‘one-way’ Learning management system to the wiki should have meant that students feel empowered enough to actually effect changes on anything they see, as I ask them to join not just as members with such regular privileges as mailing, initiating and responding to discussion topics, but as writers with the ability to change anything they see on the wiki. I make it amply clear on my wikis that everything is in draft mode and I encourage students to implement any changes they see fit, as the wiki has the added advantage of logging the history of its own changes. I note though that students choose not to ‘take liberty’ with material the teacher writes, especially not the course description. Mind you, there is a section in one of the wikis I have developed for course evaluation and some do intervene there, but I have yet to see students clicking on the ‘Easy Edit’ function to reword, correct, enhance, or delete something I have written, as a teacher. Saying this may be one thing, and seeing it done is another, and this may take some doing and learning, on their part as well as mine.

**********
In my next post, I will evaluate my experience with GoogleDocs.

2010-04-05T05:59:00.003+01:00

This may be a statement about our lithium culture where things seem to be over-determined in ways not always to our liking. Sometimes, we become the gadgetry we carry, and let our lives and our selves be driven by it. There is, however, no denying the fact that those machines can serve good purposes. This piece represents such an ambivalent position.

LITHIUM MEN

A man I know
always on the go
Carries a time machine on his wrist
It ticks and ticks and ticks and ticks
It's ticking its day away.
Before he succumbs to sleep,
He hears it tick.
Its lithium battery
Has a lifetime warranty.
The battery, though ostensibly
The heart of our lithium culture,
Is the only friend who's kept him company
For the past eighteen hundred
And thirty-three days.
Watch doctors have declared
The battery days numbered
And her cells nearly dead.
A man I know always on the go
Carries a time machine in his cells
No doubt so close, so dear, and so vital
To his heart.
It ticks and ticks and ticks and ticks
It's ticking his days away.
When he looks
At the unperturbed waters of the lake
He sees it tick and gets perturbed.
The lithium battery doctors could
Conceivably tell
How long it will tick.
Their lithium screens
Could principally declare
His years numbered
And her cells nearly dead.

Ali H. Raddaoui

2010-03-28T19:35:00.002+01:00

Carving a place for oneself in a world gone wildly geometrical is not the easiest of undertakings. While a certain level of determinacy is useful and welcome, I find living one’s life as an all too known a quantity with clearly delineated contours is not of necessity an enticing proposition.

THE NUMBERS

I have to leave the house
The perimeter of the rooms
Squarely a round figure
Neither plus nor minus
The tiles, too, so geometric
There’s no place for a hitch
Else the entrepreneur and the builder
Would be taken to court
And their licenses revoked.
The queen-size bed also
1984-ishly rectangular
Like a post-modernist shawl.
The 75 % polyester comforter
Fell half way on all sides
By sheer petty calculation…
The wall paint a good match
For the color of the cutlery
Hue 253 G.
The mind belches, excuse me!
I have drunk a house-made opiate
The chemistry was flawed
I have to throw up the numbers.
Let me leave
And relinquish control
To the dark womb
Of indeterminate shapes far away;
Far from the cacophony of numbers
I need to crouch
And contribute to nature
As I used to before I was relocated
By the force of modern calculus.
I want to be a free contour
Natural non-number.

A.H. Raddaoui.

2010-03-21T19:33:00.006+01:00

In the face of expert diagnosis, a person often has to decide how to proceed. There is the natural tendency to follow expert advice, because that is what we are expected to do. On the other hand, there are natural tendencies that pop by way of a second, if more primitive opinion, that things, ailments and discomforts have a natural way of healing without intervention.

I WENT TO CONSULT WITH A BARBER

I went to consult with a barber
She said,
‘How long ago did you wash your hair?
There’s layers of soot and rot
Crusts of matter
To cover the scalp
Plenty of dandruff
Merges with this stuff
And look here
There’s traces of nits
And their begetter
Sucking into your grey matter
Man, doesn’t it ever grate or scratch?
Are your nerve endings numb
Or have they stopped to respond?
See, says he,
In such cases,
Some sort of surgery
Is necessary
I’ll grate beneath the follicles
And erase your outer scalp
You got a 70 to 20 chance
That you might grow a decent
Head again…’
***
As I walked back home
Through the garden
I saw nightingale with a bald head
She said:
Do not be the prisoner of fads;
Play not with your head
Stay the course
And the spring rains
Will cleanse your head
Naturally.

***

Ali H. Raddaoui. Laramie, WY. Spring 2010

BURGLARY ON THE FOURTH FLOOR

2010-03-15T04:50:00.004+01:00

For a person to lose possessions may not mean much, especially if that person hasn’t got much to lose, to start with. Loss of significant others, on the other hand, is not the easiest of predicaments to deal with. Despite the many good things of life, like nurturing hope, sometimes, you wake up one morning to find out that that hope has slipped away, and all you have to retrieve it is to capture an image of what it was before it made itself conspicuous by its absence.

BURGLARY ON THE FOURTH FLOOR

Whoever it was
That broke into my universe
Through a window in my digs
That was let loose
As a matter of practice!
Three months ago
I brought a coleus
Sang to it, watered it,
And placed its pot on the edge
Of the window
So it captures dawn
And the passing of day
And the chirp of the nightingale.
I tucked a note
With a street address
Was it a palm, was it an olive
Was it a cedar or a citrus?
My mind went blank
As I arrived from a night’s trip.
I all but tripped
On the debris of my coleus:
Is roots were naked
Its leaves asphyxiated
Its soil scattered
And the pot shattered
On the ground
So hard was the thud
Below the window;
The note was gone
With the wind.
The ink of the address
Was withering
The postmaster
Wouldn’t know
The zip code or the street
Or the district or the town.
Sender’s address was blotted
Beyond recognition.
Standing on the verge of sanity,
I was grateful
The burglar hadn’t done much
Beyond wreaking havoc
On my plant.
****
Ali H. Raddaoui Spring 2010

2010-03-07T20:38:00.006+01:00

I often wonder how some things momentarily populate the screen of your mind then quickly evaporate, leaving little trace or print. Other impressions, however, have a way of colonizing space of the mind, and cannot be washed away despite repeated attempts to unseat them.

INDELIBLE INK

Everyday I spend
I shake many a hand
Oftentimes I hold the hand
That shakes my hand
We share our germs
And a smile
And catch the flu
Many times in a lifetime.
When I go home, I put my hand
Under the tap
And wash
I then shake my hands
And the drips fly around;
My hands are germ-free.
***
Everyday I spend
I have many handshakes
Of a mental type
Some I enjoy
Some I forget
And some impact me
To the point of compunction.
When I go home,
I put my head under the tap
And wash the inside
Then I shake my head
Some drips fly around
And some cling with their hands
To the core of the mind;
No matter how hard I shake
They will not be shaken away.

Ali H. Raddaoui. Laramie, March 7, 2010

ICT-BASED LEARNING AND IMPLICATIONS FOR ASSESSMENT: A VIDEO PRESENTATION

2010-02-28T08:04:00.005+01:00

This is a video presentation titled: ‘ICT-Based Learning and Implications for Assessment” that I gave at the Mednine Higher Institute of Applied Studies in Humanities, University of Gabes, Tunisia in the Spring of 2008.

In this presentation, I propose to discuss the emerging ICT-based learning paradigm based on content management systems, mobile learning, social software, and constructivist learning and to delineate in rough outline the corresponding changes at the level of assessment. I begin with an overview of the features of traditional assessment, which, for the most part, consists in an individually-constructed, paper-based, teacher-oriented, reproductive, archive-destined, word-based, in-class assignment. Then, I argue that ICT-enriched assessment is a collaboratively authored, digitally hosted, public and consumer-oriented, multimedia-rich creation. This creation is subject to updating and involves a geographically dispersed, networked community of contributors. Finally, I focus on the challenges in the face of implementing such changes at the levels of learners, content managers and service providers.
Please address your questions and comments to: araddaoui@gmail.comh

2010-02-28T04:04:00.003+01:00

A pair of negative and positive numbers with the same absolute value are plotting to bring down Zero and establish an equation where they both coalesce on an 0-X-Y graphic, despite the distance. They each have their personal reasons for wanting to ditch Zero, but the latter knows knows its value, and is not ruffled by the conspiracy.

NUMBERS SHOWDOWN

Plus Seven and its mirror friend
Below the X line
Spoke by LAN
And hatched a Zero-less plan:
To squeeze the span
Dividing them,
Sandwich the Zero in-between
And banish it in a no-time zone
Until after the end of time.
***
Plus Seven foresaw
Zero could go
It was, after all, a pedestal
Of Six steps ago
With time passing, she thought
The ladder got firmly glued
Its base only a foot from the bottom
In the event it were to sustain a fall,
There wouldn’t be much to fall
Slide down it would
Or elongate just a little.
***
Minus Seven
Was mindless of Zero
Treated it as distance
To fold until
It reached Plus Seven above
With no feelings to harbor
Except the thought
Zero was a spatial landmark
In the middle of the path
So Seven Below agreed,
without ill-plan
For zero to be banned…
***
But Zero was oblivious
He knew, without Him,
No Equations could stand
He tucked Himself to a belt
And hurled it a measure to the left
And blew a spell
On the trail
Where the twain
Were to melt.
****
Ali H. Raddaoui. Laramie, Wyoming, February 27, 2010

2010-02-25T20:30:00.002+01:00

If you were a traveler on a path some place, and reached a crossroads with bridges that take you back and others that lead into the unknown, you would need to pause and think. Would you then decide to rest before or after bridge crossing? This piece of writing is about journeying and wondering where to go…

THE SWADDLE REBUILT

I admit I acted wrong
When I sought to journey back
I have flown the orbit
Ten times since dawn broke
And each time
I land upon a new dawn…
I rest a while
To save the debris of the journey
And images of the first sun…
I think I have
All needle sizes
To re-knit the swaddle
Mom had used
To see me grow out of
My four-legged stance
The needle eye shrinks
The thread declines to pass
The swaddle is debris
Of memories
lost in the space of time
consumed by the dust of the earth
And the afternoon sun…
My hands tremble
Out of fear
The rebuilt swaddle wouldn’t fit
…If only I could recapture
Its shape, discoloring,
Texture, smell, and
The holes in it that let
The wind touch my skin…
But the swaddle refuses to shape…
As I stand on land’s end
I admit I acted wrong…
I now see palm roots
Growing from the slope below
Out into the open new dawn
I hold them, smell them,
Rub them against the pupils of my eyes
And grow some
On my own grey matter…
I take some in the satchel of my memories
And prepare to fly.
Ali H. Raddaoui - February 25, 2010 in Laramie, Wyoming.

2010-02-21T07:46:00.005+01:00

FOURTEEN COMMON ARABIC GREETINGS AND EXPRESSIONS

A friend of mine has asked me to explain and pronounce some of what I believe are the most common Arabic expressions. Many of these happen to be greetings and words that are on people's lips, more often than not. I like to think about this as an experiment, as I haven't posted video blogs before (though I have made some youtube and googlevideo presentations). And so, if you happen to have comments on how I could improve upon this product, I will be most grateful to you.

2010-02-20T18:56:00.002+01:00

This is a bit of fiction on the diary of a scorpion as she was perfecting her hole. Naturally, as this story was unfolding at this time, there were New Year Resolutions emerging in her cranial cavity. Those resolutions can only ensue from the nature of her tail. Any similarity to scorpions whose stinging is benign or fatal is purely coincidental.

ENTRY IN THE JOURNAL OF A SCORPION

The digging of her hole digs
Went on for days on end…
Ducked under a boulder
From the Rocky Rif Chain
She dug from Christmas
Well into south eastern Milarae
Having excavated stone and clay
She proudly trailed her tail
For over a week and a day
Into the crannies of the hallways
In her new underworld.
Sitting, she put one leg over another
Patted herself on the declivity
Between her legs and the tail
And resolved in the concavity of her brain:
“This is my world, by Golly,
And mine alone!”
She then constructed another hole
At the entrance of the cave…
Covering it with twigs
She nodded her tail:
“This for visitors who dare to venture
Into my private space”.
She then went to the mound
And posted a sign,
“Welcome travelers,
Vacancies inside”.

Ali H. Raddaoui Winter 2010.

2010-02-07T03:40:00.004+01:00

This is the story of a person who took a budding plant from a mountain and planted it on his land. After some time, this plant grew into a thistle type plant. Attractive though the flower was, its prickles would cause him injury. He went to see a doctor who explained that it is the nature of the thistle to grow a flower with thorns.
***
FARMING THOUGHTS

Unlike my Dad
A farmer at heart
I am more into farming thoughts
Fertile is the Crescent
The plains vast
Greenery goes
So far as eye is cast.
***
I saw a plant budding
On the highlands
And took it to my land
Nurtured it
And sang epics of its land
Till it grew into a fine thistle…
***
Taken apart
The head was rosy
But the prickles all around
More than hit a nerve of the mind.
***
I went to see a healer
In a distant land.
Looking at the palm of his hand
He ruled
I was just a cut away
From my wits’ end.
"Man, re-audit logic 110;
You can’t have the rose
And not the thorn.”
***
Back to my land
I quarantined Self
The thorns
And the land.

Ali H. Raddaoui Laramie, Wyoming. February 6, 2010

2010-02-06T01:27:00.003+01:00

Sometimes, the vista of options opens up and one finds oneself faced with an exciting array of paths to walk. While we may think of this as a specifically human tendency, it seems to me that the question of how an entity constructs its destiny is on the minds of many, including a stray atom, the subject of this piece.

***
PATHS AHEAD

An atom just out of a cyclotron
After some two score years of supervision
In hopes that she learn
To bend to the admin
Ducked in the stem of a fern
And sat wondering,
‘Boy have I got so many options
I’m not even sure where to begin!
I could on the screen of the moon
Post an ad and find a room.
I could even elect to abscond
With a fellow atom
Chucked out of this hell machine.
Then again, I could seek asylum
In the cyclotron
On the other side of the line.
It’s friendly, I hear, to homeless atoms.
When worst comes to worst,
I could reclaim my position
And simply succumb.
But, hell no!
That’s not for me
Now that I am set free
I don’t give a damn about gravity
Nor will Chaos steer my destiny
I’ll see what I can be
With the electrons around me
Ah, I’ll just take a wink
And let my dreams guide me.

Ali H. Raddaoui
February 5, 2010