Pomegranate / رمان
Dubai is a palm tree stretching her arms
date fruits are clusters hanging low
وَالزَّيْتُونَ وَالرُّمَّانَ مُشْتَبِهًا وَغَيْرَ مُتَشَابِهٍ and
gardens of olives and pomegranates are
fraternal twins
Mama once said: shika kwa udhu which means
purify with ablution which means wash three times which means
a mosque or a church or a synagogue which means
pomegranates with leathery skins, arils of reddish pulps and
rawboned seeds the price of diamonds
I hold a pomegranate fruit as a strand of rain
YouTube suggests videos on
1. How to eat pomegranate
2. How to deseed pomegranate
3. How to cut and serve pomegranate
I want to eat pomegranate with its saps gushing out like Dubai Fountain
I want to cut pomegranate into a moonbow
I want to deseed pomegranate by submerging it into a body of water
let its seeds sink into the seabed
let its pith float like Noah’s Ark but my
hands are a strand of rain holding a pack of
pomegranate molasses, tahini and fennel wrapped in feta salad
Sweet / حلوى
Ingredients:
2 cups of wheat flour roasted to caramel brown
1 ¼ cups of sugar the white of pilgrims’ ihram
4 cardamom pods divorced from their husks
2 tablespoons of ghee melted like salt on ice
100 grams of unbaptized almonds and nuts
Water enough to hold the حلوى firmly
A few drops of red food color the shade of poppies
Preparation:
Boil water in a heated copper vessel until the sea water rises
Add sugar into the water and stir until the lighthouse freezes
Add the naked cardamoms into the sugar solution
Fry the unbaptized almonds in ghee and add them to the mirnjl
Add the roasted wheat flour and a few drops of poppy red color
Stir until the vessel is in safe waters
Stir until the sun eclipses the moon
Garnish with more unbaptized almonds and nuts
Spread the mixture on a greased dock
Cut the ship into mini-containers
Serve alongside half-full cups of piping hot kahwa
I go where my happiness is planted.
A voice inside me echoes: Go back to the promised land.
Pre-elections:
Cost of living on one scale, cost of death on another.
140,000,000 births versus 700,000 suicides plus 67,000,000 natural deaths.
Post-elections:
The price of bread rises up as the price of wheat breaks the scale.
In a gazette: official data shows that the executive office has spent at least 9.09 billion against the original full-year estimated budget of 8.85 billion representing an over-expenditure of at least 450.011 million or 5.21%.
A voice inside me echoes: Go back to the promised land. This time it will be different.
I call home to hope for hope. I ask in words that I calculate: how is it now? / meaning / is this a lesser poison? / meaning / I know it is still bad but how bad is bad? / meaning / can we still afford tokens for 3 days and fish in alternate weeks and milk for my cats?
Khalto tells me, I think the tokens are depleted. My phone is on 4%. I will call you after an hour. When I tell you this time, the fish caught the plankton, I mean that the ship that was to take people to Canaan sunk and we are here floating in the abyss of a song of uncertainty.
A voice inside me echoes: Grow back to the promised land. Your calling is calling.
It is funny how the world operates. Those with years in education waste away into inflatable dinghies settling for peas in pods. How is it now? This thing about governance and diplomacy. In the dictionary of politics: there is knowing someone and knowing how to know someone – these two are pluto and earth. This crafting of narratives well suited for vessel-keepers. My glandular skin has grown scales. Where I come from is not where I belong and where I belong is not where I come from.
A voice inside me echoes: Grow back to the promised land. There you will find the canals and rivers finding their flow towards you. You, my love.
Khalto calls back after an hour. What was I saying? Yes, I know you want to come back but if you do, if you do, carry with you a suitcase with a plan. otherwise –
The sun plays tug-of-war with its star-sisters. In my apartment at Princes Street, I throw dried wildflowers on the floor. Go home. Stay here. Go home. Stay here. I kiss the last wildflower and let it rest in peace with the others.
I go where my happiness is planted.
exorcism
we eat the sea
pack the pine trees
assemble the anthills
drums are free to wander
the yellow hue of the sky
shy and spectacular
the moon dyes her hair
burgundy
marshmallows steal the show
the rohan organizes the barbecue
bats and owls sing karaoke
the women’s ankles twist
like the curls of brides
the party begins when my world
comes in to dishonor
the rituals, to warble with
the hummingbirds
this party is about to go wild
the women ululate
the chains will be broken
the cages will be unlocked
we vomit the sea, plant
bobby pins onto the sky
the exorcism has begun
the jinns depart
About the Author:
Salma Yusuf is an award-winning Personal Development Trainer and Multilingual Poet currently awaiting graduation at the University of East Anglia as the 2021 sole recipient of the Global Voices Scholarship Award under Creative Writing (Poetry), where Tsitsi Dangarembga served as the International Chair of Writing. Her work focuses on the interplay between languages and cultures.
*Feature image by Bianca Van Dijk from Pixabay
Isele Magazine 