– No one underestimates the value of stories in people’s lives and memories, especially when that memory is fresh, for it is the first ink, it is the guide, and it is the one that takes the hand of the young to grow towards his manhood. Stories are the book of people’s lives.
– In our present and new times, grandmothers’ stories in the evening have been absent, the most important source for transferring the oral heritage to the hearts of children, and making their memories alive with narratives and imagined stories about our society, our people, and our place, that childhood reserve that constitutes the first clay in building personality and shaping the individual, for what the grandmother carries and her evening stories. Of knowledge, horizon of imagination, values, morals and education.
The honest example, the honorable role model, and the noble knight have disappeared from the lives of our new, emerging generation, to be replaced by the imagined hero in Western cartoons, films, and foreign societies that knew how to present their heroes and export them to our culture to fill that void and empty space due to our ignorance, inaction, and lack of knowledge of marketing ourselves internally and externally, so we imported the role model and example, even if externally. From a lizard hole.
In our new cities, especially the capitals, the neighborhood and the homogeneous neighbourhood, the security and reassurance of the street and the street, have disappeared, and the houses have varied, and those doors that are open since the morning and the door covers of the houses do not meet until darkness falls, until the place no longer constitutes a large space in the memory of the new generation, while it was in the past. The previous time was the place of their games, their misery, and their studies, and where the neighbor could discipline the neighbor’s son, and where visitors visited and the girls carried food to the neighbors’ houses, to eat from that day’s lunch, and where the old woman of the neighborhood was the refuge and refuge from the father’s stick or the mother’s anger. On that day, all people were civil, as if they were living. Under one roof.
Everything with us had its rituals, its arrangement, and the joy of celebrating it. Weddings had their rituals. Circumcision and the birth of a child had their rituals. Ramadan, the birth of a child, and the holidays had their rituals. For firewood, making soot, and clay burners, and preparing and preparing for the holiday. The coast has its rituals, songs, and poetry, and the warmth of its presence in the souls. Everything had its own vocabulary and culture. If we do not transfer it from the lips and breasts to documentation, training, and definition, it will be lost in a soft phase of time, and in places its simplicity will give way to the complexity of the cities, and the new generation will forget it as it crosses the future. On that day, it will not He will have heavy matters in his hands, and mountains like mountains that will remind him of his temporal and spatial extension, and he will not realize how necessary the smell of homelands is.
– There are many beautiful, different, and unique things in our society. We can grasp them like one clutching hot coals, and surround them with the eyelid, and not leave them behind, because they are among the earth’s treasures if we want to cross to tomorrow, and we should not be ashamed if these things are not bright and shiny like glass and painted metal. They resemble the windows of towers, and they are dusty and dusty, with the dust of place and the dust of time on them, which makes them resemble the first people, and resemble their lives free from harm.
