The end of winter…what winter?

The weather is incredibly hot these days. As the past couple of months weren’t exactly typical, weather-wise, this shouldn’t come as a surprise. But I am disappointed at the lack of rain. Maybe windy MARCH will bring some with it and as the saying goes in Libya : مطر مارس دهب خالص  or perhaps it’s a translated saying: March rain is pure gold. There were a few days in January and February that were very cold, other than that – warm weather all round. The children are delighted of course because they can spend more time playing, but I desperately want it to rain for my newly planted trees. We’ve planted some carobs and some pines. Ambitious? Perhaps; but there are some pine trees already in the area (don’t go too far with your imagination), so I can hope. The carobs which are indigenous to the Mediterranean hills should be everywhere, yet I haven’t seen one in years! I remember that in my childhood there were two large carob trees near my maternal grandfather’s house, beneath which we would play, their large branches shading us from the relentless midday sun. So I’m determined to have carobs near my own house, hopefully. In fact I wanted to plant ten saplings, but my husband advised me not to dream too much. Well, it is his hometown so maybe he’s right. But for the past three years or so, I’ve been enjoying the thought that this particular area in the Jebel Gharbi (western mountains) , was actually becoming greener, and nothing is going to shake my resolve. Plant more carobs I will. Anyhow I think I’ll give March a chance to prove itself before passing final judgment on this rainless season.  

 

                                         ‘Mle’ib’ (( مليعب ))known for its Pine and Eucalyptus trees, is a favourite picnicking or ‘zarda’  grounds. Also a scout camping retreat, it is situated on the road to al-Gal’a  ((القلعة)), the highest point in the Jebel Gharbi -approximately 986 metres, if anyone wants to know.

The High Plains

I live in an area of Libya known as the Western mountains. Even though the highest point is below 1000 metres, they’re still mountains to us. My family roots go back a long way in this area, and my husband’s family also. We share a love for this land – despite all the shortcomings- that we have passed on to our children. After too many nights spent wondering about the future, we decided that this /here/now would be our future. No more wondering. We started building our house last year and now it’s coming along just fine. A bit slow but sure.  The view on the header of the blog is the view from my backyard, so to speak.  I hope to post more photos of the area.

I took this photo last year. This is a part of the wadi near us. It’s a very peaceful spot, beautiful despite it’s barrenness. My husband’s family & tribe used to live here, before they moved to higher ground. When there are heavy rains, the water flows down those rock steps and forms pools below. I imagine it may have been a waterfall at some point in the history of these hills.

The beginning

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

MAKNUNI ,,  ( maknooni) is a word that has a very profound and deep meaning in the Libyan dialect. Al-maknun in Arabic is that which is hidden and protected; the Libyan name of my new blog means my maknun – or my deepest feelings and thoughts. Sometimes life doesn’t allow us to voice our maknun very often, and when we do, sometimes, we’re not understood.

I needed a place to be myself. I searched within myself and found my Maknun – my life’s repository. It comforts me in times of sadness, it reminds me of the good and happy times I’ve known.  It allows me to lean on it and find support for who I am, to look forward to another day. My Maknun cannot be touched, except by those whom I allow in: my loved ones, my family. It is the bottomless well from which I sip my inspiration.

This is my space, this is maknuni.