Osama Al-Qasim | Okaz Newspaper

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

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

I arrived at 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 realize the hidden depths behind the curtain of that sentence, the mysteries of meaning and secrets of destiny. 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. Oh, what a joy it was to attend my first concert daring to enter her vast world.

She raised her voice, sailing through seas of beauty, diving into the depths of melodies, singing as if the entire 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 depths of my soul’s shadows. How could an Arab boy, whose heart beats in Arabic and whose tongue chants in Arabic, feel as if the language is 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 to 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!

Today’s sun bears witness to an international recognition affirming the beauty of the Arabic language, when 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, why do we introduce weak foreign tongues into the glorious source of Arabic? Why do we melt the ice of our hearts over the fire of languages that neither illuminate nor warm?

Arabic does not need anyone’s testimony, but the world has finally realized it was blind and opened its eyes to a light that has always shone since eternity.

Language is the embodied existence of a nation in its letters, the speaking spirit of its ideas 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 delicate fabric indicates the refinement of faculties, its deep vocabulary reflects the depth of the soul, and its abundant derivations prove an unrestricted freedom and limitless ambition.

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

Those who turn away from their language under campaigns by foreigners linguistically and intellectually find it difficult to be uprooted from the components of their existence or severed from the roots of their history. At the same time, it neither falters nor weakens but remains like a towering mountain and a firm edifice.

Arabic has enjoyed a poetic and literary history considered the richest among 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. I can only briefly mention one of the glorious poems of our present era, which was the first poem I memorized and recited in literary gatherings and eloquence forums. I consider it my literary constitution and linguistic charter. It is the poem of the immortal Nile poet, Hafiz Ibrahim, who chants and defends Arabic.

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-Rifai’s book "Inspiration of the Pen," whose rhetorical magic and eloquence aid me in expression and eloquence.

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.