My Mother's Son

I have never seen her

Although her eyes I have, they say

Her voice too I have never heard

But I was told, she sang like a bird

I was told she was very beautiful

Her skin soft as snow

Her form that graced a thousand stars

Defined beauty for us, you know

She had to leave however, one night

They came and took her away

In the middle of the night

They packed her out

Left my father in a pool of tears

And while she grabbed my brother

I was left behind

I haven’t seen them for twenty-five years

My father long passed by

Neither did he ever again

See his other son and wife

We got her regular letters for sure

And growing pictures of my brother

But of her face we never got to see

Not in a postcard nor a picture

I grew up in Damascus

The oldest city that ever was

As Syrian as one could get

Yet I was both Muslim and Christian

Speaking Arabic, French and English

Never crossed the Mediterranean Sea

Nor into the Iraqi desert

Lebanon kept me hemmed in

While Israel watched my borders

A true Arab I told myself

I was born to live and lead

To help my people live in the desert

And not necessarily to cross over

In the land of my ancestors

We loved our music and our women

We are an old people, you know

So a lot to learn, in order to live
Even if we are stubborn

And then my brother did come to visit

But not alone did he come

He came with schools, cars and education

Lack of knowledge, he said, was our sin

I showed him our ancient cuneiform

And treasures rivalling the very best of old Egypt

The land that groomed Cicero’s teacher

And the writings out of Apamea

He persisted that we need to be civilized

With genuine concern and a dismissive hand

With our protests, came out his planes and guns

The warning was clear and loud

You better heed, it’s only for your good

Then one day he came to visit me

To my village, and to my home

I made a feast to welcome him

And invited the village in

With their Dabkeh they greeted him

And their sword dances sought to woo

The food was spread with splendour

The houses adorned with lights

It was magical yet not mystical

As real as any summer evening can be

My neighbours showered their love

Total strangers hugged and kissed him

They made him feel so much at home

He forgot he was the other

He began to move and shake his leg

And forgot he was near Aleppo

I took a step backwards
Away from the dancing crowd

To watch my mother’s son dance

His movements not dissimilar to mine

Although it’s been twenty and five long years

I was seeing him for the first time

He was not so other

In spite of all the difference

Our views of our worlds in which we live

And the stories we tell each other

May seem as far as east is from the west

But in our bodies, and in our movements

In our quests for life, in our very existence

We had a lot more in common

I took his hand, drew him from the dance

We walked into the setting sun

Without a word on our lips

Twin brothers were we

Our beloved mother’s womb we had shared

Under our father’s watchful eyes

We had entered this world together

The time to speak has at last come

To open our mouths in utterance

The power lay in the language we use

As we seek to understand the other
To kill or to live and to let live

The pen is mightier than the sword, it’s said

And words more mightier than the pen

All we have are our words

Words that conjure up our realities

Words that create meaning

The very worlds in which we live

And so we hope and desperately hope

That the words of our mouth

Would become a home

And that we will live together
For better or worse
For richer for poorer
In sickness and in health
To love and to cherish
Brothers, sons of the same mother

Brainerd Prince

20 May 2012, Oxford

An Evening in the House of the Gods

Imagine you have just spent the evening in the house of the gods and now you are stepping out of their front porch and into the street – how would you be? Would you be elated beyond control? Or just filled with unspeakable joy? Or maybe you have a deep sense of satisfaction that nothing in this world has possibly ever given you! Or just that the evening, although measured in time, felt like eternity, in a good way of course, and you didn’t want it to end? Maybe you felt redeemed through the stories told or even saved through their hospitality, maybe even forgiven by their kindness, given a new life and hope through the inspired words uttered during the evening? Or just the sheer ecstasy of meeting with the gods!

Even as you step out, you recollect your stepping in, when you first entered into their home – not extravagant, but tastefully done – the gods have no need to prove their wealth! The environment captures you instantly! The fragrance of the incense, the flickering lights of a thousand candles, the soothing music, indeed the very best of the classical masters, filling the house, drawing you in, inner and beyond the space that you occupy. It was not a museum you entered, but a home, a genuine dwelling place that you immediately were able to call as home, your home. And yet, it was adorned with artefacts, each with a story more interesting than the form they represented, and you did get to hear those stories through the drawling night.

The gods have a life of their own, their families, their tragedies, and even their romances. Their love stories ignite passion and their romances desire! Their sorrows brim your eyes with tears, and in their sorrow you experience catharsis. But it’s their tragedies that capture you the most, the inevitable paradoxes of good rewarded with evil, the rich driven into poverty, the wise made to look foolish and the foolish wise. But maybe the greatest tragedy was to see them, the gods constrained by their humanity – humans and yet gods, gods for sure but in human form! The aura, the beauty, the love is indeed divine and yet formed and embodied in frail humanity. You could touch them, hug and hold tight, and in their embrace you found warmth.

But there must be miracles you say, no one can see god and yet not receive a miracle! But what about the miracles the gods experience, the miracles they enthusiastically share while refilling your glass with the best of France. Amazing stories, of men ministering to the gods, women foretelling unavoidable doom, and yet with love, with compassion, through incarnation, by the sending of a gift, the gift was itself a symbol, the symbol contained the message, a future story, definitely a tragic story – foretelling the event of the son of the gods, a misfired shot, in prime of youth, death in the most unlikely of places! The memory darkens their radiant faces and the gods shed silent tears! You reach out to console, hold their hand, angelic figures indeed, even as the gods are helped, you tell yourself – this indeed is the mother of all miracles – me a human, helping the gods, in their own home!

Everything around you fills you with a sense of wonder even as they draw you on to themselves, and beyond. The images, the pictures, the icons, they beckon you, and you stand before them reverentially, hat in hand, immersed in wonder, awe and joy. You gaze at their beauty and fall in love, in love with a picture, an icon, someone you have never met – a yearning for a stranger, someone you do not know. After all you are in the house of the gods, anything is possible, I mean, everything is possible!

You stand up to leave, filled with ambrosia, you stand with new confidence. There is a bounce in your step, even as you walk down the street, you know you have been divinized, as nothing less is possible after an evening in the house of the gods.

Education in the Human Sciences

The successful functioning of a society depends upon the success of its educational system, therefore education and research are the institutional vehicles through which society trains itself by receiving, modifying, theorizing and transmitting the practices and knowledge that it has inherited from its past even as it engages with the practices and knowledge originating from other societies. The practices and knowledge about humans, as individuals and collectives, are generally studied under Human Sciences and particularly through the disciplines of politics, economics, religion, theology, history, philosophy, psychology etc. Therefore a healthy society necessitates the study of the Human Sciences at the highest levels...
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