This is my first post on Arab Expats, Who-sane was kind enough to invite me to join..thanks Who..btw I’m maintaining the agreed attire😀
Ok, since this is a place for Expats..it’s only appropriate that my first post would be about Home, the following post was written last December, but it’s still as fresh as the jasmin in the gardens of Amman, so now..I’m reading it again..with you..on a rainy evening in London.
I’ve always wanted to say something about her..to her..Amman isn’t simply a city. People usually affiliate cities with buildings, intellect, or maybe weather..but Amman has this mysterious aura..probably an aura inherited from the Gods of the Ammonites, The thought of that ancient Roman Ammani who came up with the idea to name it “Philadelphia” which so eloquently means “City of Brotherly Love”, the Blessings of passing prophets who at one point sat under a tree on her outskirts, ate a peice of bread made from the wheat of her fields, on their way to her twin across the river…Jerusalem.
Amman is not a city..it’s a blood line..a family tree..of prophets and saints..mothers and sons..warriors and lovers.