These past two weeks have been a steep rising and steep diving of emotions. What follows is a piece written as the result of this incomprehension, solace, beauty, and hurt. Don’t worry, I don’t lose anyone in the course of this piece, except perhaps myself. I wrote this on March 2, 2021, during my first week back in Port Sudan after two and a half years away. After I finally came to terms with the extent of my grandfather’s weakness. It’s (almost) unedited, so be kind to a hu

The worst thing or maybe best thing about fear is that it is based on our perception of things. Fears are formed from past experiences, memories, or just random knowledge that we pick up about things or even people. When we encounter something that we are afraid of, we are either frightened because we do not know what it is and the power it has over us, or because we know exactly what it is and what it is capable of. This may sound confusing at first but take a look at this:

Hello! I’m Noor and I’m in the Iraqi Cultural Association. We’re a new club in Georgetown University in Qatar, and we hope to use our club to discuss various different aspects of the Iraqi culture, including Iraqi art, food, literature etc., and all in all put an emphasis on the many different pieces of the Iraqi individual that disinvolve politics. This is a creative piece about an important topic we have talked about in the club: the relationship between one’s self and thei

I was born different- you might assume that this might make me unique but unfortunately, it has made me cursed. There is nothing exciting about feeling guilty over the death of your best friend every single day. All I ever wished was to be like any other person, with normal vision so that I don’t have to see the remaining time left of a person’s life. Ever since I was born, I used to see the time left for people on their forehead, but I never cared about it because I didn’t k

Once upon a time there was a cat named Cupcake. He used to roam around my compound- a honey-coloured ball of fluff, dragging his tail while he hunted for food with his needle sharp claws. It was the time when the sun was like fire under the kettle, slowly boiling all the surroundings. The cat followed me as I put the trash out in the bin, and blocked my way as he laid down on our stairs. The cat’s orange eyes were a doorway to his love, begging me not to leave him alone and s

In the wake of a burgeoning post-war austerity in the late forties, the Italian film scene underwent a paradigm shift which was a novelty in the history of cinema itself. If films were once associated with unreal, ideal worlds- which many were- these Italian films came with a different outlook. They began portraying the real, the seemingly un-special everyday living experiences of people at the lower end of the economy. For these people, surviving was a tale on its own and fo

For many years, Yemen Hadhramaut had always been dependable for home-style Yemeni meals for Education City (EC) students. The restaurant closed down its original location outside of Gate 3 over the summer and recently reopened in Al Gharafa. While the move promises more business opportunities for the restaurant’s owners, future EC students will miss a gateway into Yemeni cuisine and an age-old EC social tradition. Yemen Hadhramaut before (left) and the location after closing

Perhaps I don’t have to know where I’m going And for now it is enough that I’m not where I used to be These growing pains are draining me of all my energy I know that I am gravitating towards a transformation And it’s enough that I know, it doesn’t have to be an exhibition. There’s no point in telling everyone that I’m about to die When they will witness my rebirth in their own time. Bring me flowers when I am born anew. Drown me then with gifts and affection. For now, you ca

Careful constructions made of crystal and glass Held up by hopes and prayers Ready to topple over, ready to change Morph into something new, something more saccharine We are all barely held together here. Wisps of fluffy white cotton falling within The house is so empty its full of nothingness You wake up and you’re ready to Throw pink linen sheets back and have your brown coffee With the shot of caramel You’re ready to put everything in the correct order To reflect that you

She checks her makeup one more time in her wardrobe mirror and smooths down her skirt. It doesn’t look that great, she sighs to herself. But whatever, I don’t have time to fix it. Scurrying around the bedroom, she grabs her phone and wallet before making her way down the stairs, half-walking, half-running. She was always slightly anxious whenever she had to speak to someone she didn’t know quite well. But this time, it was different. She had to speak to someone she knew well,

The first time I heard the term “third-culture kid” I was in a high school Literature class and I had no idea what it meant and honestly, I really didn’t think twice about it. I never imagined how over the years, this term has come to define the way I view myself and my experiences. A third-culture kid, or TCK, is when a child grows up in a culture that is different from that of their parents. That child is also exposed to a variety of different cultures and usually they find