Yamustafa!

"There are heroes... there are superheroes... and then there's Hancock" Article by: Elham Abdelkhalig* The new thing about the movie Hancok (2008) is that it presents a black superhero which is a rare event if we look back into Hollywood's history where the typical image is that of a white, wealthy, kind, lovable and superstrong superhero. But does this movie present an ideal black superhero? That is what I am going to work on. The three characters I will engage with are, John Hancock the superhero, Ray Embrey a public relations man, and Mary who is Ray's wife. John Hancock (Will Smith) is a black man, who is presented in this movie as a superhero with super- strength. He is immortal. He can fly and he has a natural bullet shield y et he is a homeless alcoholic who is vulgar, filthy and unshaved. He swears and some times he harasses women. Hancock's ethnic identity as a man of color categorizes him with radicalized groups. Bei...

" مُنمْنَمَة حِكائيَّة" بَـــزَقَــــلْلِي* لا يُبادرُ بالتحيّة أبداً!، كما هو حالُ أهل مدينته الصّغيرة؛ الذين يَتصافحون في اليوم أكثرَ من مائة مرّةٍ بمودّةٍ صافية!، ولا يَطلبُ أيّ شيءٍ مِن أحَد!، ولا يَشكرُ أحداً على إحسانه إليه!، لكن كلّ مَن حوله يُدركون ماذا يرُيد فورَ حضوره، ويُبادرون بإعطائه قبل أن يَنطق بحرفٍ واحد، ويُطْرِقون خجلاً يخالجه ارتباكٌ فاضحٌ مصحوبٌ باحمرارٍ في الأعين والوجوه. دائماً تَغْشَى الأمكنةَ التي يَعبر بها يومياً سحابةٌ مهيبةٌ من الصّمت الـمُعْدِي تظلُّ عالقةً بفضاء المكان إلى حين ابتعاده، وتُشيِّعه نظراتٌ عطوفةٌ مصحوبةٌ بدعواتٍ وابتهالاتٍ صادقةٍ تَدعو له بالرّحمة ولُطف القضاء. صاحِب البقالة يُعطيه ستَّ سيجارات روثمان وكبريت، ونصف رطل من السكّر، وقليلاً من الشاي، وبعض توابل، وصابوناً لغسل الملابس.

Nectar! This Morning By  Shakir Abdalrahim  himself. The romantic guy with a matchless technique of baring behind fret No.12 in a standardly tuned guitar. A swift, brief arrest. A second of incarceration in a chord. A bonus for the listening ear. Shakir will always be associated with this simple shift achieved by his pinky. He loves simple arpeggios that emanate of fleeting auditory bliss. His style has remained the same since we used to sit for hours listening and playing through the night in that past of uncertain pleasures and illusory colors orchestrated by poverty, unease and unrelenting hope. Shakir's  style is simplicity that oozes with quality sounds.

اعتداء بقلم طه جعفر كان مهتماً و منزعجاً قليلاً  و ربما خائف و لو لا هذا الارتباك لما فعلها فالوقت متأخر، ليس من احتمال لأي بص أو تاكسي أو حتى دفّار، الحركة قليلة في الطريق. شمال سوق ود نوباوي في هذا الوقت من الليل. يمر قليلٌ من رواد

Text by: Mohamed Hamad Translated by: Mustafa Mudathir There is a tiny mystery; an entity unknown that hymenates our souls for reasons undisclosed with a plasticine of thinness a sleazy film of boredom to blunt our insistence in dealing with existence. And verily those same songs,  enchanted as they are that ornament affect, the deepest and inmost, are turned to mere phonations that tend to bore at most. The things you sought with passion are now dispelled around you devoid of early value, or heavily under-rationed. You like it, oh! no more, the stretching on your bed Nor do you like rising and nothing is surprising. Your cup of tea, whose edges are occupied with white, fitly tight but slight arrangements of foam in a faintly soaring vapor is sipped with only half the usual kind of fervor. With both your lungs employed you only get some faint amount of air. And every time you feel that filament on your soul, it gets the thicker and firmer. I know it is illusory. It ...

مدد عندما راح يحكي معاناة المتطوعين في تلك الحرب اللعينة التي فُرضت عليهم فانتزعتهم من أحضان أسرهم وضحكات أطفالهم إلى أتون تلك المعارك، كان السحاب يتجمع في فضاء السماء الزرقاء بالخارج، ثم واصل الحكايات عن معاناتهم، دون أن يتطرق بشكل تفصيلي لما حلّ به هو شخصياً، كان يتحدث بحيادية دون أن يحمل أي ضغائن حتى للجانب الآخر من الذين كانوا يحاربونهم، إعتبر أن الجميع ضحايا لمواقف متشابكة ومتباينة من ناحية التقديرات والمواقف ووجهات النظر، في تلك الليلة وهم داخل ذاك العنبر الذي جمعهم مع أشتات من شعوب وقبائل أخرى  داخل المعسكر النائي، لمع البرق فجأة وانهمرت السماء مدراراً. عنّ له أن يمارس لهوه الجنوني وهو طفل في قريته، فخلع ببطء حذائه العسكري، ومد رجله الخشبية خارج نافذة العنبر، فبللت قطرات المطر الخشب السميك، بينما أخذ هو غفوة. 

Without Her (2) She cast aside her charms for the sake of an intellectual image. That did not bother you. Keeping her by your side was all that mattered. You felt you could defer your yearning, you lust and build on them to a great promise. Oh God! was that why she went with the goalkeeper? because of.. Where is his photo? I always wanted that album here and open! That's him. I clipped this from a sports magazine on the eve of their marriage. Tha caption blames a recent defeat on him. Mark this! His physique was more attracting than athletic. Then she made a choice that would not have occurred to you. Of course you knew that women marry for reasons you cannot foretell. They also marry without obvious reasons and, again without you being concerned After getting married, he moved her from her culture-reviving ambiance to a peripheral setting fraught with infra-subsistence revelations and burgeoning emotions. Very early on, she dropped her previous contention for abortion a...

Without Her (1) On The Ambiguity Of Probability I see them descending there; in the quivering haze of a mirage. Their statures break slowly until I barely discern whether they were human or merely obscured images? Some of their details slide to float away, making me think they would perish in the haze. But before long they would catch up with those critical details of theirs and emerge. The knock of their boots echoing in a shoreless expanse. And, away have I distanced myself! Away from all appeals have I taken to chopping my firewood; anticipating a long and cold winter without her, without a ripple; a comeback. Things take their course while I watch. Paths get stirred by my silence. In every detail, it is the same whether I am surprised or not. I have to remember what happened had to happen! All contexts were to round up regardless of my emanations into what they impact. So what do need I need me for? But these a priori conclusions are never to be reached until you ...

Hey, buffoon!  Hold on tight watch out not to fall torment the heedless folks and bend your ears low safe-guard against foe  fear not to gaze in earnest your royal shadow below and if the leaves rustle,  depart and withdraw as walking maybe dangerous Ye buffoon.  Blast your fire on everything       on unconsented breeze on every word if uttered without a pass train the sparrows to write apparatus reports,  the village lanterns,  the towns' windows,  every stalk of Durra has to learn let ants become informants the dribble learn to scribble   their daily spying diary  Or, better still, keep most  people bottled up in glass Put focus on the hungry sink all the bloody toilers down the seventh earth! bombard them really hard! expropriate the stars from the dark of night the ebbing of tide from the sea cancel with no excuse the face of the rising day clip the wings of winds freeze the veins of life  and invalidate th...

منصور الصويم *صَلاَة الصلاة خلاص. وما منجاة للجسد سوى الجسد. وهي، الساهمة أبداً، لو قُيض لها تسجيل معادلة أوانها لكتبتها هكذا. فجسده أمامها الآن، في كامل عريه البشري: محطم ومدمر ومصاب بكافة أعطاب وشروخ الحياة.