The Land Will Remain Arab...

In the late days of my studies, amidst the dust of the final days of high school, a dreamy spark ignited within me, heralding the birth of a dignified, aged tongue and a passionate Arab heart.

This was on the thirteenth of November, 2019, at the cradle of place and the pavilion of civilization (Dubai Opera House).

I attended the grand theater draped in a phrase inscribed by the hand of a dream on a white shawl, fluttering with words that read: "The land will remain Arab."

That day, I did not grasp the profound meanings and secrets of destiny concealed behind the curtain of that sentence; rather, I read it as a happy boy stepping for the first time into the world of opera, looking forward to beauty, unaware of the fate carried by the word in his soul.

At that moment, the constellation of art and the lady of brilliance appeared... Majida El Roumi, and oh, what a joy it was—my first concert where I dared to enter her vast world.

She then unleashed her voice, sailing through seas of beauty, diving into the depths of melodies, singing as if the whole earth was listening to her, as if existence carried her breath to every conscious ear.

"The land will remain Arab."

Her soul shouted it before her throat did, and the word echoed within me like a prophecy awaiting fulfillment by the days to come.

That unique moment, despite its captivating beauty, was a tragedy painted in the shadows of my soul... How could an Arab boy, whose heart beats in Arabic and whose tongue chants in Arabic, feel as if the language were being assassinated within him and sold in the market of cheap souls!

Oh, the heart’s sorrow when it sees the language of the Arabic letter (Ḍād) applauded by hands, then abandoned in the arena of life! And oh, the spirit’s regret over the disdain of dark minds that rush after the miserable foreign tongue like a madman chasing the illusion of civilization!

Shame on those severed tongues that deny their origin and flee from their source, panting after a mirage with neither water nor shade!

And the sun of today bears witness to a universal recognition that affirms the beauty of the Arabic language, as the eighteenth of December resounded in the records of nations approving Arabic as an official "global" language—spoken by four hundred million people, indeed the mother of languages and the origin of eloquence.

We do not seek from this recognition a false pride, but rather a sincere belief in the majesty of this language and the greatness of this heritage.

If other nations—who are, by God, linguistically and culturally inferior to the Arab and Islamic nation—have acknowledged the high status of Arabic, then why do we introduce weak foreign tongues into the glorious source of Arabic?! And why do we melt the ice of our hearts over the fire of languages that neither illuminate nor warm?!

Far be it from Arabic to need anyone’s testimony, but the world has finally realized it was blind and opened its eyes to a light that has shone since eternity.

Language is the embodied existence of a nation in its letters, the speaking soul of its thoughts and meanings; every word is a witness to the uniqueness and distinction of its people.

It is the nationalism of thought that unites the nation’s outlook on existence; its intricate fabric indicates the delicacy of faculties, its deep vocabulary reflects the depth of the soul, and its abundant derivations are proof of unrestricted freedom and limitless ambition.

Arabic has encompassed the highest descriptions and greatest terms; it was the pioneer of sciences and the guide to knowledge! Every science has a definition that grasps the essence of its terminology—the linguistic definition is the first cornerstone and the original source.

Those who are deterred from their language by linguistic and intellectual foreign campaigns find it difficult to be torn from the components of their existence or severed from the roots of their history, yet they do not falter or weaken; rather, they remain like a towering mountain and a solid edifice.

Arabic has enjoyed a poetic and literary history considered the richest among all the languages of the earth throughout ages and times; it was the tongue of the Arabs and their weapon accompanying the sharpness of the sword and the skill of the knight in the battlefield and civilization.

Many poems have been composed in love of Arabic and in its defense, and I can only briefly mention one of our glorious contemporary poems, which was the first poem I memorized and recited in literary forums and assemblies of eloquence, which I consider my literary constitution and linguistic charter: the poem of the immortal Nile poet Hafiz Ibrahim, which chants for Arabic and defends it.

These words were penned in a café called "Arabi," whose details are all Arab, reminding one of authenticity and heritage, while I held in my hands the immortal Al-Rafi’i’s book "Inspiration of the Pen," from whose rhetorical magic and eloquence I drew what helped me in eloquence and expression.

Peace be upon the language of the Arabic letter (Ḍād), which remains a witness to the greatness of a nation and a speaker of the glory of heritage.