
Hajjah Women's Committee Activities to Commemorate Martyrdom of Imam Hussein
The speeches from the activities emphasized the importance of adhering to the values and principles for which Imam Hussein ibn Ali, peace be upon him, sacrificed his life.
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Yemenat
2 hours ago
- Yemenat
From My Diary in America: The Torment of the Grave in America
My friend Al-Harazi, whose name is Abdulwahid Al-Qudaimi from Bani Ismail in Haraz, greets you with a military salute and a face radiant with love. Each time you meet him, you feel a sense of shyness from his warm welcome and heartfelt reception. The features of his face and his cheerful demeanor bring you comfort, tranquility, and peace of mind. He envelops you in familiarity, love, and warmth, seeping into your soul like a stream of fresh water. His conversation captivates you from the first moment, overflowing with humanity. As you engage in small talk, you feel as if you have known him for ages, showered by a rain of affection. He is a rare human being; it's hard to find a man like him in reality. He persistently refused to accept money for the goods I bought from his store. When I began to hesitate in taking what I needed from him, he started accepting a symbolic amount to ease my embarrassment. Yet, I still felt uncomfortable with this arrangement. My shyness weighed heavily on me, and I found it increasingly difficult to face him. I felt compelled to leave my friend and refrain from buying what I needed without severing the bond of affection and peace between us, promising daily that all was well. I began to deal with another shopkeeper to avoid my friend Al-Harazi. However, he continued to call me and offer ready meals he prepared at home, not from his store, insisting with oaths of friendship that I accept them. This man overwhelmed me with his generosity, nobility, chivalry, and the grace of his character. I was confused and often thought about leaving him, departing like a beloved one without a return. But fate had other plans, and I will return to discuss this at another time. * * * I dealt with the other shopkeeper, whom I believed to be American of Indian descent or something similar. I didn't care where he was from as long as he didn't speak Arabic. I tried to communicate with him using the limited English words I knew, but sometimes I struggled; I relied on gestures at times and handing over items at others. It was surprising that some English words I had memorized and tried to use were not understood by the shopkeeper. For instance, the word 'water' in British English is pronounced differently in American English, and I often had to clarify by gesturing or physically showing him what I meant. I thought my Arabic tongue was unaccustomed to English, let alone its pronunciation. The truth is, I have difficulty with the pronunciation of Arabic letters as well. My brother Abdulkarim once accused me of mispronouncing certain letters when I read, even swallowing some of them. If this is my situation with Arabic, how would I fare with English? And if American English itself shortens some words and letters from British English, how would someone who struggles with their own language manage with a foreign one? It was undeniably a difficult and complex situation, or so it seemed to me. * * * One day, overwhelmed and filled with despair, I carried my medical files and other belongings, feeling burdened by a charlatan and a liar, confronted by a boldness of deceit that sought to crush me. My mind was lost in confusion, searching for an escape from the predicament I was in, while malice tightened its grip around me. There was no honor in this conflict, no knightly duel—just deep pain and a good knight being killed by treachery. Upon reaching my residence, I searched for my phone but couldn't find it. I felt as if my memory had become my phone, and I had lost my memory altogether. I asked my roommate if he had my number to call it and check if my phone was in the room. He informed me he didn't have my number, and regrettably, I hadn't memorized it. I suggested he call another colleague living with us. When he did, I discovered I had lost my phone, and no one was answering it. I suspected I might have left it at the building entrance while burdened with my belongings and unlocking the door. I rushed to the entrance but found no trace of it. I hurried to the shop where I had purchased some items, and instead of speaking to the owner in English, I spoke to him in hurried Arabic, feeling panicked and disorganized: 'Did I forget my phone here? Did you find my phone?' He replied in Arabic, 'Where are you from?' I said, 'From Yemen.' He asked, 'Where in Yemen?' I replied, 'From Taiz.' Then I asked him, 'And you, where are you from?' He answered, 'From Rada'a.' He said, 'I thought you were Indian during the time I dealt with you.' I laughed and said, 'I also thought you were Indian.' We both laughed, and he handed me my phone. My spirit lifted, and I felt relieved after a period of tightness and stress. I told myself that a person can turn even their misfortunes into opportunities, as well as into new experiences and acquaintances. 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Yemenat
5 hours ago
- Yemenat
An Analysis of the Poem (The Divine Transgressions) by Tunisian Poet Dunya Al-Zarli
The Divine Transgressions We gather in misguided piety upon the bed, As letters ignite in the trunk of a tree. I shall begin to spill the ink of desire Upon the pristine canvas of pleasure. Pleasure, a stage with neither end nor beginning, Language circles it, reverent, Before two quenchless longings. It transforms me into an apple, With a taste both rich and divine, An apple consumed without end, Until the body is cleansed Of tiny sins That gather between two kisses. I search for a fissure in memory, To seep through And carry the world's funeral. I hasten my steps to my own body, Where poetry stands naked, save for the sins I cherish. It salutes beauty, Praying in unison with Tagore and Lorca, Glorifying with pomegranate seeds at the throat's edge. Questions cloud the air, And the apple rolls From Newton's notion of Earth, Seeking the twenty-ninth letter, Ignored by poets. My fingers tear the veil of lost whiteness On the bed of forgetfulness. My palm is an open world, While all around me is tightly sealed. Only the gasp of longing Slowly opens me. Language overflows, and a lover appears, Piercing my bewildered desire like a first kiss, My desire sparkling like my first joy, My desire ablaze like my first gasp, And a bitter cry strikes the ceiling of my solitude, And I see My desire shattered like my final disappointment. Shall I speak of the ash's taste in my throat? Shall I describe the anguish of departure in my hand? I spin in place like an orphaned child, Like a sorrowful truth, Like an illusion devoid of certainty. I search for myself and find nothing, And fall upon soft ground, Where the void consumes me. Where is hope? Where is the path that leads to the path? Where is the earth that draws me closer to the sky? Where is the language that bestows meaning? Where is the meaning that arranges the cosmos? I gaze at the final drop in the glass And hear the majestic silence enveloping the space. I hear the exquisite stillness stretching through time, I hear my heart beating within the poem. In a moment of loss. ————– After reading the poem 'The Divine Transgressions', I felt as if I were navigating the depths of a rich and complex human experience. The poetess offers a profound vision of desire, loss, and the search for meaning. Al-Zarli begins by transporting us to a state of misguided piety, where religion and desire converge in a contradictory tableau. This phrase raises questions about how one grapples with their spiritual and physical yearnings. The imagery she conjures reflects the ongoing struggle many endure—an essential part of the human experience. When she speaks of pleasure, she writes: (Pleasure is a platform with neither end nor beginning.) Here, the poetess reflects how pleasure is not merely a fleeting moment but rather a continuous state intertwined with our existence. This compels me to ponder the meaning of pleasure in our lives and how it can be both exhilarating and exhausting. She then delves into the theme of nostalgia, conveying a deep sense of loss through the image: (I spin in place like an orphaned child.) This expression is incredibly powerful; it articulates the solitude and isolation one can experience even amidst the bustle of life. It is painful to feel that we exist in a world full of people yet struggle to find someone who understands us. At the poem's conclusion, the poetess poses existential questions that resonate deeply: (Where is hope? Where is the path that leads to the path?) Dunya Al-Zarli succeeds in merging profound emotions with inquiries about life and existence. Her poem 'The Divine Transgressions' encapsulates a perpetual search for meaning in a world rife with contradictions. Through her expressions of desire, nostalgia, and solitude, she invites readers to connect with her experience across time. In summary, Al-Zarli's work challenges us to explore our own complexities, urging us to reflect on the intricate tapestry of human emotions and the quest for understanding in an often perplexing world.


Saba Yemen
8 hours ago
- Saba Yemen
Gaza Civil Defense carries out 894 missions in June amid ongoing aggression
Gaza – Saba: The crews of the General Directorate of Civil Defense in the Gaza Strip carried out 894 missions during June, despite the ongoing military operations as part of the Zionist genocide against the Palestinian people in the enclave. According to a statement from the Directorate, these missions included 149 rescue operations, 455 medical evacuations, 86 fire extinguishing operations, and 204 other tasks. Additionally, over the past 24 hours, the civil defense teams in Gaza executed 36 missions across the Strip's provinces, from Saturday morning until Sunday morning. The Gaza Civil Defense stated in a report received by the Yemeni News Agency (SABA) that these missions included: - 2 firefighting operations - 6 rescue missions - 23 medical evacuations - 5 other tasks Whatsapp Telegram Email Print