Motaz Omarien
I got to know that Arab girl from Syria through the family, and through the internet. It was a strange thing to meet a girl with such good and suitable qualities. Once you pass forty, the chances of dating women and finding your other half grow fewer. I went to them without any wish to go; my going was an escape from a family gathering I did not want to attend. The appointment was on the first Saturday of June, and it was as if it had come at exactly the right time.
I went to meet the girl as an escape from a family gathering, and as a breaking of traditions and customs. After the meeting, I heard my mother say: “They have agreed to you.” It was a shock in every sense the word can carry. I was used to rejection, and no sooner did a girl come who accepted me than I was stunned. I froze in place, opened my eyes, paused for a moment, felt the earth spinning, and felt that I had neither weight nor place.
The first week passed, then the second, then nearly seven weeks of continuous talk with her, of understanding in everything, of adapting and harmonizing, of music, of songs, and even of love. They were beautiful, wonderful moments, as though I had found my other half. But after time had passed, I realized that my first half was not there. My first half came from the shrapnel of war, from the disintegration of a society that does not visit us, and from a family that has not visited us for more than six months. I am made of the shrapnel of a man whose family was destroyed and whose society was destroyed, and nothing remains but scattered ruins here and there.
We went, according to customs and traditions, with the family to see her and to see her family. We agreed, we got tangled, and we quarreled over the dowry, and we ended at an important moment with no important agreement that satisfied all sides. In truth, none of the sides was satisfied, and this is what showed afterwards. With time, a simple problem arises and becomes a disaster, and the disaster ends in the destruction of everything, because we were not satisfied. That silence that comes out of her mother's mouth, and out of her family's mouth, expresses what is to come.
We agreed to set a date for the engagement, so that there would be a party, and the preparations, and the coming and going. The scale of the preparations was great. I am writing now and I am all rage, rage, rage. I am writing and I am full of anger and bitterness.