Aisha Abbas Natto
Al-Madina
The hardest dreams are the dreams that choose us when our condition is such that we cannot find a way to reach them. They are the ones that call on us to live them, while we are unable to do so.
My experience of meeting girls at an orphanage was like holding a burning coal in my bare hand. I witnessed the silent sorrow of girls who do not know their parents; their only fault being that they were born out of wedlock and then abandoned.
There was a girl named Aisha. She had a roasted coffee bean complexion, thick curly black hair and shining black eyes. Aisha was a member of a group that was responsible for designing a rehabilitation program to prepare girls for the labor market. She sat next to me and whispered in my ear that she knew that her father lived in a city far from Jeddah.
Humans are passionately fond of reuniting with those who are absent from their lives. Aisha continuously asked about the town where her father lived. She asked how far it was from Jeddah, whether it would be possible to meet him if she travelled there and searched for him. She even asked whether Careem, the transportation service, took passengers there.
The supervisor at the orphanage came and tried to talk to her about the rehabilitation program. However, Aisha dreamt only of meeting her absent father. “You know the city where my father lives, don’t you?” she asked.
The supervisor answered, “Nobody here knows who your parents are.” Aisha, however, was unconvinced. One night, she sneaked out of the orphanage to search for her father. She was not successful and returned. Not being able to meet him left her hurt.
I later met Aisah at another meeting. She looked like a sad heron, hovering around with a heart filled with agony and sorrow. “When are you graduating from university?” I asked. She ignored my question and instead told me about her journey. “I visited the town where my father lives,” she said. I asked her how she knew that that was where he lived. She simply answered that the people there have the same complexion that she has. She then whispered, “All of you say that love generates love, so how can it be that I was born from sin?”
