Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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S A A R A 25 practice in Syria. If the market is far enough away, the young goats grow to adult size in the time it takes to reach the market.) The long trek would give Zuhab a chance to ponder over the beauteous things around him. Of course, he could dream about what fame the little charm would bring him. Now, to talk of the present, Zuhab started off merrily one morning on his new job. All the neighbourhood goats were starting the climb up the hills with him. Of course, he would turn around every five or ten minutes to look at the view. There were beautiful green groves of olive trees growing in rich red soil. He could see gypsies picking grapes on the terraced hillsides, and above all he could see and hear the rippling streams making their way down the rocks around him from unknown sources. If he looked hard enough he could make out the border between Syria and Lebanon. It was marked by a customs and immigration office on the narrow winding road. Zuhab was also fascinated by the differ- ent makes of cars he saw passing by on the road below. The majority of cars were Eng- lish and American but none which were made in Syria. Higher and higher they climbed. Finally they reached the grazing grounds. The goats playfully nipped at Zuhab ' s lunch sack. His mother had given him what she could spare. His lunch consisted merely of a salted fish and a piece of bread. (The bread is unleavened. One piece is as large as an ordinary dinner napkin and, in the process of making, is rolled very thinly.) Zuhab ignored their hungry nips and climbed onto a flat-topped rock to eat his lunch. Upon finishing the food, he was going to count the goats to make sure none had strayed en route. Meanwhile he munched on the fish while looking down dreamily at the Caza centre of Quanta. Since he was finished his lunch, he began to count the goats. The young herdsman found the youngest of his herd was missing. By quickly scanning the surroundings, he could make out the shape of a little goat further up the hill. Quickly Zuhab scampered up the rocks, but at the same time wondering how the small creature had managed to climb such difficult terrain. When Zuhab reached the goat, he dis- covered it had its little hoof caught in a small hole. Quickly and gently, he freed the young animal ' s foot. Then he packed the hole with earth so nothing else could get caught in it. Suddenly the earth around him gave way from his weight, and he fell through into a large hole. When he had had time to catch his breath he saw that a short tunnel branched ofl from this hole. Being adventurous, Zuhab could not resist following the tunnel. He could feel the air becoming cooler and damper as h e progressed. Suddenly he beheld a sight far too beautiful and breathtaking to describe. Lit by the sunlight entering by the short tunnel was a cave. There were beautiful frosty spikes rising from the floor of the cave and hanging from the ceiling of the cave, like icicles. AH the walls were covered with beads of milky moisture. There was a glimmering inky pool at one end, fed by a small rushing waterfall. Zuhab could scarcely think of what to do the sight was so magnificent and different. Finally he just sat down and drank in the beauty. He sat there for some time trying to de- cide what he should do. He sat fingering his charm which, he noticed, was wearing thin. Finally he decided that he, of course, could not keep the discovery to himself. Out he scampered onto the hillside, and with the goat under his arms, he ran as quickly as possible to deposit the goat amongst the rest of the herd. Then he continued down the hillside to the road where he ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the border. Once there he told of his discovery, breathlessly. Now Zuhab is twenty-six years old. How often he brings out the newspapers, eleven years old at that, and looks at his picture and reads the headlines. Native Arab boy finds cave . The old grazing ground is no longer there. It is replaced by a road frequented by thousands of tourists each year who visit the

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24 SAMARA The Lucky Charm Now I do not want you to think that I beheve in Fairy godmothers, but the story of a young Arab boy named Zuhab certainly fascinated me. There was nothing very outstanding about him. His father was poor and his mother had an endless job of keeping their goat-hair tent clean. She was busily engaged with her num- erous children. Nor were the surroundings of their meagre home outstanding. The tent was pitched amongst gypsy tents in a grove of umbrella pine trees. Zuhab ' s father, Shamman, for the sake of his family decided against leading a nomadic life. The family home was, therefore, usually near the Syrian-Lebanese boundary, not far from Damascus. Unfortunately Shamman had to con- descend to begging from the well-to-do. Zuhab, therefore, learned the art of begging at an early age. He used to wander up and down the cobblestone streets, by the mosques and through the noisy bazaars begging from every well-dressed English or American tour- ist he saw. Nothing made him more angry than a parsimonious tourist, with more money in his pockets than Zuhab could ever dream of possessing. The young boy had a special treatment for this type of tourist. He would follow and pester the particular traveller until he would succeed in annoying the poor chap out of a few cents. However, he would never fail to give his best smile of thanks to the tourist. Then the young man of the world, looking every minute of his nine years, would strut down the aisle of bickering money changers to exchange the coins for Syrian currency. He had to be careful to choose a kindly money changer who would not mind exchanging the small sum of money. Then off he would go to the open bazaar to buy some sweetmeats. One day when Zuhab was busily begging, he felt suddenly very sleepy. I guess it was because the sun was especially bright and he had sat the previous night outside the tent, trying to count the stars. Anyway he sat down on the step of a public fountain and began to practise smiling. First he would smile normally, then he would crinkle his eyes and tilt his head, looking up at an imaginary tourist, through the corner of his eyes. This smile seemed to have the most results when he was begging. While he was busily practising his smile, he heard a laugh. Zuhab looked up rather sheepishly as he realized he had been sitting by the fountain for fi ve minutes. His eyes came to rest on an American lady. Somehow Zahub did not feel like begging from such a fine and gentle looking lady. He just could not take his eyes off her. Suddenly he realized her guide was asking him to pose for a picture which the lady wanted to take. Apparently Zuhab ' s favourite smile had won her heart. At first he looked a trifle dubious, but when he saw that the lady had something for him, he promptly obeyed. Anyway, he liked all the attention he was attracting from the people passing by. When the picture was taken, the lady handed Zuhab a small charm on a chain. The guide translated the lady ' s words to him. Keep this, my smiling friend, and some day, in some way, you will be famous . Zuhab did not quite understand the mean- ing of what the kind lady had said, but he always kept the small charm fastened around his wrist. He was still wearing it when he began working on his first job on his fifteenth birthday. If you had looked at Zuhab, it would have been hard to distinguish him amongst such a sea of goats ' heads and backs. Yes, his job was tending goats. Each morning, at sunrise, he would gather the goats from his various employers ' homes and take them to the hills to graze. Some day he hoped to have his own herd of goats which he would walk to market. By the time they vould reach the market some fifteen miles away, his goats would be healthy and fat. (This is a common

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26 SAMARA beauty spot of the hills . What about Zuhab? He runs his own tourist guide agency in Damascus. It is a flourishing business and Zuhab sits back, but he instructs his guides to take the tourists to see Zuhab ' s Cadisha . As for Zuhab ' s family? Through his fame, the father, Shamman, received an excellent job and retains it still. As for the lucky charm? Zuhab still wears it and thanks it for his success. Now, my good reader, I hope you under- stand why I am a little inclined to believe in fairy godmothers. Esther Prudham, VI Matric The Man in the Library He stood in the middle of the floor in the vast dark room of the library. He was tall and thin but bent. His head was pulled in between his shoulders as if he were afraid the walls covered with books would close in on him. His suit was threadbare and baggy at the knees and elbows. It had once been navy blue, but many years of wear among dusty books had faded it to a dull grey. He had a big beak-like nose on which a pair of horn- rimmed glasses were perched. His cheeks were hollow and of a yellow colour. But his eyes, seeming very big through the thick glasses, had a keen glance. He looked around at the walls, paused a moment to think, and then looked through all his pockets for something. At last he pulled out a piece of paper, read what was written on it and walked over to the astronomy books. Helena von Numers, VI Matric My Dog When school is done I walk my dog To give him exercise; And in return he shows his love With soulful, upturned eyes. They say the dog is man ' s best friend. He ' ll comfort and defend; Without our dogs what would we be? We ' d be at our wits ' end. Martha Rodger, VC II Faith The wind rustled softly through the pines and the birds chirped happily. Before the rain the air was heavy and oppressive, without movement. The birds waited expectantly, uttering only a few necessary chirps. The ground lay dry and cracked. All the country- side waited and prayed. The drought which had lasted for over two months was coming to an end, at least so everyone and everything hoped. The crops which had been planted so long before were dried and withered. If rain did not come soon they would be ruined. If only the rain would come and relieve the terrible pressure in the hot, humid air. The word rain was on every farmer ' s lips, the topic of all conversation. Then one August day, the farmers awoke and failed to see the hateful, hot, blistering sun shining so unmercifully on their poor withered crops. All they could see were dark, threatening but oh-so welcome clouds. All day they waited and prayed for relief from this drought which threatened their very lives. The air grew more oppressive as the hours ticked by: nine o ' clock, ten, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, four o ' clock. Finally at five o ' clock they began to give up all hope. But suddenly the thunder rolled, lightning streaked through the grey sky, and the heavens opened, pouring forth what had been prayed for day and night. It lasted for two soHd, heavenly hours. At seven o ' clock the sun broke through, but this time the farmers did not curse it, they welcomed it. As the Angelus rang out, everyone sank to his knees and thanked his God for what he had sent. The grass was greener; the crops seemed to lose their withered look; flowers opened out and at last there was no more worry or anxiety. Rain had come. Life would start anew. These farmers had faith. They knew that their God would not fail them if they be- lieved, trusted and prayed. Susan Belcourt V A