4
THREE ARAB GIRLS, PLAYING SANDCASTLES,
ON A BEACH IN AMERICA
By Ninie G. Syarikin
As I was walking along the shore,
alone and barefooted
on Virginia beach;
I saw three girls playing together
busily digging and carrying sands
in their cupped hands.
Their heads were covered with scarves
white, green, and yellow;
the colors of nature,
of the cloud, forest, and the sun.
Their small faces looked unusual,
with large sharp eyes and beautiful lashes.
Their long tunics were waving
like American banners
blown by the sea wind.
Intrigued, I approached them silently,
and sat myself in a distance;
but close enough to eavesdrop.
By the language of their chattering
I knew where they were from.
The Land of Arabia,
Land of the Prophets.
While pondering,
I started hearing the girls
giving each other commands.
"Talita, stop bringing the sands now,
we need pebbles to support the walls."
"All right. While I bring pebbles,
you can tell Tamara to find sticks
for pillars," responded the girl
called Talita.
"Tamara . . . . . ," called out a voice.
"Just a minute, Soraya,
I'll go get them, after I
finish the Queen's bedroom."
Not long after, I saw the girls
running around to do their errands,
with their colorful scarves
waving in the wind.
Talita went to the waterfront
to collect sea pebbles.
Tamara flew to the bushes
to select some sticks.
And Soraya stayed in the compound
to continue building the castle.
From what I saw with
the division of labor,
I could tell that the latter
was The Architect!
The girl named Soraya,
was so skillful,
using her hands and fingers,
building the stairs of the fortress.
She dug out the earth
surrounding the castle
to make a trench.
And, in no time,
she shaped the dome
complete with its hiding spot,
to oversee enemies coming.
Soon Talita and Tamara came running,
bringing their assignments,
and put them in front of Soraya.
The latter was quick giving orders.
Together, they were working diligently,
towards achieving their goal,
amidst their cheerful chat
in the ancient language
of the Holy Books,
of the Holy Prophets.
I was watching intently,
in amazement.
Oh, how deep was my desire
to join them,
to participate in building their castle.
To relive my own girlhood memories
when I used to build houses
with the sands of the beach
in another part of the world.
I was like traveling in a time tunnel,
crossing a bridge of two generations.
Like I was able to reach,
but would be awkward to touch.
And for what seemed like an eternity,
I was frozen in time, and
engulfed in a deep melancholy.
Startled,
I awoke from my soliloquy,
and realized that
I'd lost the track of time.
My feet felt wet and cold by the tide
and the sweeping sands
Aahhhh, how long ago was that?
Those Arab girls with
their long tunics and waving scarves
were nowhere in sight!
Where were they?
Where could've they gone?
Could they have sailed with the Sun
to the other side of the ocean?
To the Arabian sea?
I looked around . . . . .
No trace could be found.
I tried to ask the waves,
but my voice was swallowed by
the roar of the sea.
I turned to the sea-gulls,
they looked away,
as dusk blanketed the hemisphere.
I was wrapped with profound sorrow
Not having a chance to bid
farewell to the castle builders!
In extreme solitude, I walked
towards that lone sandcastle.
But the moment I saw it,
I almost burst out with joy
and couldn't conceal my pride.
They have built a monument
on an American shore!!!
NGS
Washington, DC, Wednesday, August 12, 1998