I first read Naomi Shihab Nye in middle school. It was a story about grief and I wanted to relate to it but, thankfully, hadn't been sad enough at that point in my life. I read that same story again in high school, at which point I was sadder but still not sad enough. I have read countless stories, so many of them about sadness, but almost none so elegantly as Naomi Shihab Nye's "Shoofly Pie". Over several gorgeous pages she talks frankly of how it is to lose someone. Perhaps it was in anticipation of my own losses that her words felt so true, her persistent nostalgia and flawless transition between past and present events created memory. I wanted that. I wanted depth of life experience, love and loss.
I had my turn, surely, and the whole story played out just as I had remembered. There was pain, like Riyad's tears and anger like Johnny forcing Mattie to sweep nonexistent sugar crystals on the kitchen floor. There was reconciliation, like Johnny muttering "No, no, no, baby" as Mattie was leaving the cafe. It was as if she had known my heart through and through. And because of that I never forgot about "Shoofly Pie" and Naomi Shihab Nye. So when I saw that the college was offering a course in Arab-American literature, I had to take it.
Leading up to this course, I have taken nearly all of the Arabic language courses offered at McDaniel. Over five semesters I have learned to read and write, and about many of the cultures of Arabic-speaking states. The most striking, unifying concept is togetherness. The importance of family, of village, and of homeland, the multitude of specific words to describe these, paint a portrait of Arab culture unfamiliar, I think, to many Americans. And what could it mean to be a mergence of these disparate ideas? From what I have seen, togetherness has persisted. Arab-Americans love community, for community is that weightless, essential thing that can be transported anywhere. Out of so many beautiful belongings, community was among the few that could traverse the Atlantic. It could not be scorned or stereotyped. That is what I know of Arab-Americans, and what I suspect will pervade their literature. It is also something that, through this course, I hope to better understand. Just as Naomi Shihab Nye helped me to make sense of love and loss, I hope that the writers examined in this course will help me to know togetherness.
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