Ghanem Juma Al-Habashi..
A poet who does not look at the chair in the evenings or at the crowd in the front rows. He is the rich man who adorns his life with the sweetest poetry. He is the water of the heart and he is the same heart always and forever. “My aunt’s boy” as I like to call him and he likes to call me. From the time of beautiful people, a path, a sandy street, and writing. On the walls and the joke of the good old days, Ghanem is an archive that preserves places with poetry, reminding us of the days, the family’s supplies, the character of the benevolent, the contented people, and the mother’s bread, “in this village of ours” the railways of our toys “from the lungs of life and its voice he reads poetry and we wait for new ones, his poems are heard when he recites them and we do not hear them when they are not From him, and his heart caresses the days and asks for permission to play with the pitch of his voice, he wrote his poems and with them he alerted us when he saw migration and salt climbing the walls of our homes and the emptiness that inhabits them, and he changes the geography and tries from “a plate of china to metal.” He is the poet who fills the conscience with his poem and the emotion that gently creeps into the soul. He brings together our laughter in childhood and who honors us with beautiful qualities. Poetry is the reference and archive, recalling our memories and bringing back in us nostalgia for an earlier time.
“Oh hot sun, you burned me/ You pass me by in memory/, You remind me of fronds lined up/ And a house made of walls and clay/ And a tall palm tree that never dies/ Even if the soul dies in it/ Its shadow on the earth remains/..
Ghanem is a friend and cousin. Whenever we meet him, we explain the poem to the sea. We are the first to run on a track and race on the sand of the beach and the sea. The one who stands at the “Darisha” of the house. We look at him and miss him and say: I am longing and nostalgia has shaken me/ Yes, I long for the dress and the Kabbah/ Yes, I long for loyalty and companionship/ Yes, I miss you, my dearest lover. Yes, I miss you dearly..
In a conversation with the playwright Saeed Ismail, his companion, Ghanem, a character full of love and sincerity, a person who has a taste for poetry and follows poets in all Arab and Gulf countries. He reads and is interested in everything new, and asks about details and the word, the life archive and collector of old local vocabulary, which he employs for the benefit of poetry. It is notable for its distinctive presence and it is the reference.
Within poetry and in life, we always find someone who carries the message and conveys it faithfully, and about those to whom life gives its conscience and frees them from many adversities and their mysterious cause. They find time to solve them and see in the narrations of the ancestors the river from which they scoop.. Ghanem Jumaa calmed his feelings and said poetry was pages written on a chest. Notebooks without numbering.
Thank you, Ghanem Jumaa.
“The millstone has disappeared and the voice of the biased one has fallen silent/And the walls have collapsed, mourning for their inhabitation/And dear Arabs have disappeared from my dear heart/Oh, and He will cause them to suffer people like no other/.”
