Stories from Amman

By Project Pen

Cities are immortalized in story and stone.

The is a book about a city. A place of aspiration, hope, corruption, brutality, change, ambition, family and loneliness. A place where thousands dream of escape. Somewhere millions call home.

A city like any other city. But different.

The stories in the ebook were created by a team of over fifty writers and artists in just one day, working in Arabic and English.

'Stories from Amman' is a 'Project Pen Storylabs' initiative to go out and create the content.

Project Pen was founded to encourage a new generation of writers, creating new kinds of stories, from a new generation of writers.

We're based, as you might have gussed, in Amman Jordan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Project Pen
• Release date: Aug 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476013916

Project Pen

Publishing new stories from a new generation of writers.

Book preview

Prologue

The idea behind project pen was to find out if people were still telling stories, particularly in Arabic.

Two months into the project we found that a lot of people were writing stories – but not everyone had time to read them.

The problem was that writers were still writing for books. Meanwhile readers had turned into ‘users’ – people who micro-published on twitter, shared on facebook, or watched movies on youtube. Based on the interaction we were seeing though project pen, it was clear that the way people told stories needed to change.

Storytelling needed to become more social, more collaborative, and it needed to be built from the bottom up – with the internet in mind.

Pretty soon we realized that these kinds of stories weren’t going to just appear. We had to go out and create them.

Thats when Storylabs was born – clusters of writers, artists and creatives working together, over the course of a day, to create ‘new stories, from a new generation of writers, for a new kind of readership’.

The first edition of storylabs was entitled ‘Stories from Amman’. It took place on 30th June at the Ras Al Ain Hangar. Over 50 artists, writers and performers took part. Most had never met each other before.

The results are humble, but beautiful.

Keep Writing,

Project Pen Team

****

English Stories

Aysha El-Shamayleh Here to Go

Home is a minefield of youth in transit.

I have friended swimming hobos,

who lose their minds to the cargo rooms of the next ship to western paradise;

because even explosives believe in saviors.

Youngsters believe in bikes streaming the streets of a third world democracy,

along with open faced gutters and pictures of king, king, king sweeping by.

Can't draw the line between contradictions and mockery of a people.

They gell their hair into a confused interpretation of White America, roll dollar bills to sniff the gravel off their knees from tripping over broken speedbumps

and a life that crashes into despair often.

Popping cheap pills on the outskirts of inner-city refugee camps, looking for colored imaginations, only to seek serenity in hysteria.

Contemplating suicide on the ledges of the Ministry of Interior affairs.

then getting sentenced to prison for contemplating suicide.

Killing the lights,

huddled in underground artist laboratories,

sinking in puddles of violet haze.

and it echoes...

Can't afford electricity bills. Graffiti anarchist lines on police station walls.

Then it goes…

Can’t change election laws. Browse one way tickets to Cuba.

I say grow the balls it takes to own your country,

I am done being given up on in divorces with passports.

in our miles and miles of depression,

in your alcohol addictions and detox prisons,

and all the ways you try to numb it out.

Meanwhile I am left standing,

standing,

waiting

to go

down.

Constantly finding myself on the ledges of the Ministry of Interior Affairs,

rediscovering my appreciation for rock bottoms.

And I see it coming

the nudity of pocket, the engine groan of 6 million empty stomachs,

the damned fury for change that sets border control on fire,

and all morality collapses.

Right then,we wont hate;

because I ain’t having sons that carry guns to the playground.

I have made honest attempts at disarmament.

Make honest attempts at disarmament,

and repossess the gravity of sunsets.

****

Rula Zein-Iddin - 'Precious Philadelphia

An incongruous mix of old and new

Streets with names of folks we knew

A villa here, a tower there

Civic planning of which I despair

Our traffic rules are clear for all

Those that follow them so rare; if at all

Within this seemingly chaotic city

Are those that struggle and fill you with pity

The dustmen who clean our streets every day

The begging children who do not play

A growing abyss between rich and poor

The daily struggle to lead a life that is secure

A city full of contradicting trends

Be they conservative or fashion that offends

And yet in harmony we all do live

Our heart and souls to this land we give

For where else can you find such peace of mind

The love of a home-land so hard to define

A trip downtown holds a magic air

A simplicity rarely found elsewhere

I love the hustle & bustle of the market place

I long to capture each & every face

For each one has a story to tell

Of how their fortunes rose and fell

The colours, sights and smells delight

Though crossing traffic fills most with fright

To understand where we are and how far we can reach

We need to see where we came from and thus I beseech

For us to maintain our heritage in this city of old

A valued treasure worth far more than gold.

****

Aaida Abu Jaber - Old Stairs

I got a chance to visit the place,

I seldom go to on routine days.

The old Amman we rarely see,

The ancient quarters that used to be.

Old alleys that