Not a Mirage: A Novel About the Unseen World

By Fatima Yousif

Not a Mirage explains the young life of a lady who has dreams and plans to achieve. The war of the Arab Spring reflected her life. She struggled to be the one she wanted to be under war circumstances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Oct 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482881172

Fatima Yousif

Fatima Yousif is a national activist, author, journalist, and a politician who was born in 1993.

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Copyright © 2016 Fatima Yousif. All rights reserved.

ISBN

978-1-4828-8117-2 (e)

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10/19/2016

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NOT A MIRAGE

A Novel About the Unseen World

FATIMA AL HAMMADI

10/10/2016

The events of the novel: Early 2011

NOT A MIRAGE, is a

symbolic novel that criticizes some of the phenomena that move the Arab and the global world written in a fictional and satirical manner. The t’ext of the novel was written based on the writer’s viewpoint on what she watches and reads in the daily news related to social, religious and political thinking, and which in turn, raised her awareness regarding the different trends related to various issues. These deductions were used to create the elements of the novel, which take the heroine to events and attitudes that lead nowhere. The novel focuses on the internal, psychological aspects of the modern woman who is obsessed with strength and idealism, on the one hand and by Hollywood’s world of beauty and fame, on the other. Moreover, it highlights how this person with all the complexities of her character can face the tests and tribulations she encounters, because of things she does not perceive but tries hard to discover. The novel highlights the conflicts that the human soul encounters between virtue and the laws that govern the reality they live in. The novel moves within three time periods: the present, the past and the future. The heroine of the novel is not satisfied with the visual world, and thus crosses the barrier to the invisible world.

Rain is falling from the sky tonight, as it has always been for the past few years, and while it used to be a source of irrigation and life in a world of fantasy and on people of eons past, it has changed, becoming a source of destruction. Still, the trail is far away, and I am a Mirage that was born from human mortality. It did not start with "The hour drew nigh and the moon did rend asunder", but rather with a thunderous hurricane that shook residences and houses, and scattered their components. As I walk, I hear my footsteps, but they are not synchronized with the movements of my legs, which are sprawled on a velvet sofa. The voice approaches me, pushing air towards my European nose, on which I have spent an amount of money that satisfies my psyche, in order to become…

The voice of the mother is heard, filling the living room: "Saraaaab, Saraaab¹". No, I will not wake up. I am in the future now and that echo is a voice coming from the caves of the past.

The mother: Sarab! Have we run out of places, for you to sleep here on that chair that I found with difficulty at the top of the distant hill? Come on, go get me something to warm my legs. What is this woman saying? The wood is in the fireplace, why does she not light it? The matches are on the first shelf of the wooden library that my dad purchased because I deeply loved its smell. Sarab removed the cover off her body, which was and still is a major concern for her.

I have an appointment today at my clinic. What is her name? I forgot her name. I shall call my friend who might be dear. But…Wait a moment. Mary, make my morning coffee! I want to drink it on the balcony. The phone rings. Where is my phone? More ringing. Here it is. Hayat! My friend, where are you! I miss you so much! What are you doing?

Hayat: Nothing exciting. A couple of hours ago Nader left the house. So I started to clean the patio floor and now I’m almost done.

That’s why I smell the detergent every morning. Aren’t you bored yet of this daily routine? Aren’t you bored of watching such faces every day? When are you going to make me your role model and light up your life like me?

Hayat: Honey, how’s your mother?

Mom…Where is she? It seems like a long time ago since I saw her. Wait a second. Mary! Mary! Oh Mary….. I do not know where she disappeared to, and I do not know where the kitchen is. It looks like I will have to go to the coffee shop. Surely you’ll come with me. See you!"

My legs propel me towards my room. It is my purple room, the one I love because it reflects my feelings, as if I am the one who made it look like that. This window and what it overlooks, the street on which the apartment building stands, and the neighbouring street, the street where the cafeteria that sells falafel is, and where any time I open the window I see a skewer vertically-coated with meat and the thin, dark face of the worker whose expressions reveal to me why he is here and why he was deprived from so much. The doorbell is ringing. I have to go myself to open it.

It’s you! Why are you pressing the doorbell repeatedly and so violently? Because of you I took one of Mary’s miserable roles. Do you know how to make cappuccino frappe? I think you are good at making it. It’s your job which has always increased your husband’s love - cooking, right?!

Hayat: Didn’t we agree to go to the coffee shop?

Yes. But hey, I was so lost in the enthusiasm of your coming here that I forgot my plans.

Hayat: I will wait for you on the couch.

No, come with me to my dressing room. No one but me is allowed to sit on my velvet couch. It is for women of beauty only.But she, tired of continuously thinking, would not hear my precious advice for which people pay money to hear, after consulting a doctor they brought from the ends of the Earth.

Close your eyes and don’t turn around, or else…

Hayat: Or else what, pretty one, huh?

I will tell your husband that you are a lesbian, ha ha ha.

I close the door. My mind is thinking, shall I return to closing this door again and give my mother the painting, which contains her pinkish white face, her black long hair and her smile that I always tried so hard to see? And when I did see it I decided to draw her and put the painting in the guests’ reception room. I decided to put it there to make my father always feel that mom is watching him so he wouldn’t say things that mom doesn’t like. Yes, power should always be in mom’s hand. Yes, and my room and its window and what it looks down on. Maybe this is the time to start yearning for the cafeteria.

Hayat: Here we are, in front of the cafeteria.

When did we pass the street of my house to get here?

Hayat: Do you want some falafel from here?

What? It seems that you have now gone to a world of oblivion and forgetfulness. Didn’t I tell you that I want a coffee shop, not a cafeteria?

Hayat: I know, I know, but I am craving Falafel. Please give me 10 pieces.

Ten pieces! Have mercy on that organic bag in your body. You make it start its day with complex fats and oils. Don’t you want to hear the advice I have been giving you for five years? You have to drink water first. Did you drink enough water? I know you are going to say no, so I will tell you I hope you pass out. That would be better!

Hayat: Be quiet!

OK, which direction?

Hayat: This way, seven steps away from the left wall of the cafeteria. Always remember that parking places here are not crowded. We’ll go to the cafeteria by car, I can’t walk much.

Her car - when I see this car I get hit by dizziness and nausea. It’s a heap of iron that reminds me of that accident…

During my first year in college, I had just attended the last lecture of my major in general science, and it was about General Philosophies. At that time, I was influenced by Aristotle and the theory that he established about friendship, that true friendship is based on virtue and benefit, and at its peak it leads to happiness. While I was on the university sidewalk, looking at cars passing by so fast in front of me, my phone rang announcing a call from Nader to tell me he can’t take me home because of traffic. At that time I said to him: It does not matter how late you are, I’ll keep waiting on the pavement of the usual parking lot. After a long time, perhaps 80 minutes, a small car, green as locusts, came with a huge creature inside. It looked like a female, but those features were familiar to me. At that time, I wondered if there was any oxygen left in the car. She approached the sidewalk and stopped in the parking. She lowered the left side window. "It is you! You