A mural draws praise for its colours, but residents cannot place the scene.
01Read the Arabic story
الْجِدَارِيَّةُ التُّرَاثِيَّةُ الَّتِي لَمْ يَتَعَرَّفْ أَحَدٌ عَلَيْهَا
عِنْدَمَا كَلَّفَتْنِي لَجْنَةُ الْحَيِّ بِرَسْمِ جِدَارِيَّةٍ عَنْ ذَاكِرَتِنَا، جَمَعْتُ صُوَرًا مِنْ ثَلَاثِ فَتَرَاتٍ. أَعْجَبَنِي قَوْسٌ فِي إِحْدَاهَا، وَنَقَلْتُ دُكَّانًا مِنْ أُخْرَى إِلَى جَانِبِهِ. كُنْتُ وَاثِقَةً مِنْ جَمَالِ التَّرْكِيبِ، وَلَمْ أَسْأَلْ إِنْ كَانَ أَحَدٌ قَدْ رَأَى هَذَا الْمَكَانَ بِهَذِهِ الصُّورَةِ. فَالْمَطْلُوبُ، حَسَبَ رَئِيسِ اللَّجْنَةِ، كَانَ مَشْهَدًا يَجْمَعُنَا، وَقَدْ تَرَكْتُ لِنَفْسِي تَفْسِيرَ هَذِهِ الْكَلِمَةِ.
يَوْمَ كَشْفِ السِّتَارِ، سَأَلَ بَقَّالٌ: «أَيُّ سَاحَةٍ هَذِهِ؟» وَقَالَتْ جَارَةٌ إِنَّ الْقَوْسَ يُشْبِهُ بَابَ مَدْرَسَتِهَا، لَا مَدْخَلَ السُّوقِ. أَثْنَوْا عَلَى الْأَلْوَانِ، ثُمَّ بَدَؤُوا يَبْحَثُونَ عَنِ الْحَيِّ فِي اللَّوْحَةِ. فَسَّرْتُ صَمْتَهُمْ أَوَّلًا بِالْحَنِينِ إِلَى مَا اخْتَفَى؛ وَكَانَ هَذَا تَفْسِيرًا مُرِيحًا لِي، لِأَنَّهُ أَبْعَدَ الْفُرْشَاةَ عَنِ السُّؤَالِ.
جَاءَتْ جَدَّتِي فِي الْمَسَاءِ، وَأَشَارَتْ إِلَى مِشْبَكٍ مَائِلٍ رَسَمْتُهُ فَوْقَ دَلْوٍ. قَالَتْ: «هَذَا مِشْبَكُ الْمَغْسَلَةِ الَّتِي كُنَّا نَنْتَظِرُ أَمَامَهَا». تَذَكَّرَتْ كَيْفَ كَانَ صَاحِبُهَا يُثَبِّتُ بِهِ وَرَقَةَ الْأَسْعَارِ، وَكَيْفَ يَسْقُطُ عِنْدَمَا يَعْبَثُ بِهِ الصِّغَارُ. سَأَلْتُهَا إِنْ كَانَتِ السَّاحَةُ صَحِيحَةً، فَضَحِكَتْ: «الْمَغْسَلَةُ كَانَتْ خَلْفَ الْقَوْسِ، لَا إِلَى جَانِبِهِ. أَعْرِفُ الْمِشْبَكَ، أَمَّا هَذَا التَّرْتِيبُ فَلَكِ».
أَرَادَ رَئِيسُ اللَّجْنَةِ أَنْ نَكْتُبَ تَحْتَهَا: «حَيُّنَا كَمَا كَانَ». عَرَضْتُ عَلَيْهِ عِبَارَةً أَطْوَلَ: «مَشْهَدٌ مُتَخَيَّلٌ مِنْ صُوَرِ الْحَيِّ، مَعَ تَفْصِيلٍ تَذَكَّرَتْهُ سَاكِنَةٌ». لَيْسَ التَّفْصِيلُ بُرْهَانًا عَلَى الْمَشْهَدِ كُلِّهِ. وَافَقَ عَلَى الْعِبَارَةِ، وَلَكِنَّهُ طَلَبَ أَنْ أُكَبِّرَ الْقَوْسَ؛ إِذْ ظَلَّ يَرَاهُ أَنْسَبَ لِلصُّوَرِ الْإِعْلَانِيَّةِ مِنَ الْمِشْبَكِ الصَّغِيرِ.
أَبْقَيْتُ حَجْمَ الْقَوْسِ، وَأَضَفْتُ اسْمَ جَدَّتِي بَعْدَ اسْتِئْذَانِهَا إِلَى وَصْفِ الْمِشْبَكِ. لَمْ أُغَيِّرْ مَوْقِعَ الدُّكَّانِ، لَكِنِّي تَوَقَّفْتُ عَنْ تَسْمِيَةِ الْمَشْهَدِ نُسْخَةً مِنَ الْمَاضِي. حِينَ سَأَلَنِي طِفْلٌ عَنْ سَنَةِ الْمَشْهَدِ، أَرَيْتُهُ الصُّوَرَ الثَّلَاثَ. أَمْسَكَ بِطَرَفِ إِحْدَاهَا، وَسَأَلَ أَيْنَ كَانَ النَّاسُ يَقِفُونَ انْتِظَارًا لِثِيَابِهِمْ. هَذَا السُّؤَالُ اسْتَطَعْتُ أَنْ أَسْأَلَهُ لِجَدَّتِي.
Show English translationHide English translation
When the neighbourhood committee asked me to paint a mural about our memory, I collected photographs from three periods. I liked an arch in one and moved a shop from another beside it. I was sure the composition was beautiful, without asking whether anyone had seen the place looking like this. According to the committee chair, the request was for a scene that brought us together; I had left myself to decide what that meant.
At the unveiling, a grocer asked, “Which square is this?” A neighbour said the arch resembled her school gate, rather than the market entrance. They praised the colours, then began looking for the neighbourhood in the painting. At first I explained their silence as nostalgia for what had disappeared. That explanation suited me: it kept my brush out of the question.
My grandmother came that evening and pointed to a tilted peg I had painted above a bucket. “That is the peg from the laundry we used to wait outside,” she said. She remembered how its owner used it to fasten the price sheet, and how it fell when children played with it. I asked whether the square was right. She laughed: “The laundry was behind the arch, not beside it. I recognise the peg; that arrangement is yours.”
The committee chair wanted us to write underneath: “Our neighbourhood as it was.” I showed him a longer phrase: “An imagined scene from neighbourhood photographs, with a detail remembered by a resident.” The detail is no proof of the whole scene. He agreed to the wording, but asked me to enlarge the arch: he still thought it worked better in publicity photographs than the little peg.
I kept the arch its existing size and, with her permission, added my grandmother’s name to the description of the peg. I did not move the shop, but I stopped calling the scene a copy of the past. When a child asked what year the scene showed, I showed him the three photographs. He held the edge of one and asked where people had stood waiting for their clothes. That was a question I could put to my grandmother.
02Useful words from the story
| Arabic in the story | Meaning here |
|---|---|
| جِدَارِيَّةٍ | a mural |
| التَّرْكِيبِ | the composition; arrangement |
| بِالْحَنِينِ | as nostalgia |
| الْفُرْشَاةَ | the paintbrush |
| مِشْبَكٍ | a peg; clip |
| الْمَغْسَلَةِ | the laundry shop |
| مُتَخَيَّلٌ | imagined |
| بُرْهَانًا | proof |
| بَعْدَ اسْتِئْذَانِهَا | after seeking her permission |
| نُسْخَةً | a copy; replica |
03Check your understanding
Choose one answer per question. Track voices, omissions and competing accounts. Choose the reading best supported by the Arabic text.
What to remember
- A remembered detail can support a particular recollection without proving an entire reconstructed scene.
- The painter revises the caption’s claim while preserving her composition.
Explore the Arabic in this story
Related grammar and vocabularyOpen Araqick guides connected to this story.
Arabic Relative Pronouns: Joining Ideas with Alladhi and Allati
الْمَغْسَلَةِ الَّتِي كُنَّا نَنْتَظِرُ أَمَامَهَا
Follow the feminine singular relative pronoun and the pronoun returning to the laundry shop.
Laysa in Arabic: Is Not and Is Not Here
لَيْسَ التَّفْصِيلُ بُرْهَانًا
Separate the nominative noun from the accusative predicate in a negative description.
