Love, Land and the Sea

As dawn breaks, the sun emerges from the horizon, casting its golden rays across the indigo canvas of the sky. I savor the familiar ritual of sipping coffee on the rooftop perch. Twenty-five years of Friday mornings in Maadi, Cairo watching the beautiful sunrise’s hues painting the sky with a palette of golden yellows and soft pinks, casting a mesmerizing glow over the city. Still, nothing could rival the ethereal beauty of daybreak over the fig-laden branches of my grandparents' home in Alma, Safad. My mind is dancing with anticipation, wandering, thinking about journeying with Toyo, in just a couple of hours to Gaza, Palestine before heading to Alma. It is our first time back in Palestine as a married couple, and I am so excited.

I love journeying together throughout the year to one another’s communities. I would not have known four years ago when we met at the African teachers union amidst the vibrant bustle of Lagos, Nigeria that we would be here. When I met Toyo I couldn't help but be captivated by the way she spoke of her ancestral soil, her words infused with a deep-rooted reverence for the earth. We got to know one another through traveling and exchanging knowledge and resources with one another’s communities. I grew more and more in love with Toyo's wisdom and gentle spirit. Our bond flourished through tender care for our own and each other's communities, it is the foundation to our relationship.

Our year, guided by the seasons, is spent across Lagos, Maadi, and Alma. We spend the winter months in Lagos with Toyo’s family to attend yam farming season helping plant yams in the community farm.

Spring calls us to Maadi, to work with my father, Hassan, on boats in the Nile transporting traded goods from lower Egypt to upper Egypt. Toyo, being a brilliant wood worker, crafts the boats we work. Both of us being children of great sailors we sail away up and down the Nile all spring. The summer takes us to Alma, Safad to where we spend it with Sido and Jeddo, caring for the village’s fig trees and working with mama in the village school. Toyo teaches math and I teach physics and poetry.

In the languid transition from spring to summer, amidst the whispering breeze that carries the promise of sun-kissed days, we bid farewell to Maadi. It is time to set our sights on the Palestinian shores. My heart brims with glee, I am so eager to be amidst the myriad wonders of Gaza—the crystalline sea, mesmerizing sunsets, and the joys of biking through the city with Toyo. Unable to wait any longer, I rush downstairs to wake Toyo up. My heart quickens at the thought of embarking on this trip, it is just as exciting every time. Toyo is looking angelic in deep sleep, I hate that I have to wake her up, but it is time to get going. I gently kiss her on the cheek, “Sabaho yalla habibi, the sea is waiting.” She opens her beautiful eyes slowly and stretches like a cat with a big smile across her face. Sleepy and excited, she stumbles to the washroom to get ready for the day.

I slip into my swimsuit and shorts, and gather the last things we need to pack. I notice from the corner of my eye Toyo scrambling looking for something, she is pacing back and forth from her closet to the laundry room scattering everything around. I quickly realize what is happening. “Habibi, your travel overalls are right here ironed ready for you.” Toyo smiles and quickly jumps into their overalls ready to take off.

All done packing, I zip up the bags and Toyo packs the snacks and medication “Nada my love, all set and ready to go?” Toyo calls. “Yes hayati, yalla.” We stroll to the bus stop and catch the bus to the train. Toyo is beaming, I love seeing her so excited. We sway side to side as the bus driver zooms through the bustling streets of Cairo, hurrying to get to the train stop. We arrive just on time, and grab window seats across from one another, uninterrupted access to stunning views. “I love this train ride so much, the scenery is so enchanting.” I hold her warm hands “I told you, there is nothing quite like our beautiful Mediterranean.”

Toyo, alarmed, “Nada, habibi are you okay; your hands are freezing, did you eat?” I giggle in guilt “I actually forgot, I am jittery and really hungry now that you mention food!” Toyo sighs “I just knew it, you get excited and forget everything else. Here, let's have some breakfast.” She takes out my favorites from the food bag she so carefully prepared and in classic Toyo behavior stuffs a date in their mouth. “To warm your stomach up for the food, it is sunnah!” We both dig in, munching on fatayer, chips, foul sandwiches and wash it down with Asab.

Bellies full and minds relaxed, we wonder at the beautiful landscapes beyond the window. I look over and Toyo, calmed by the rhythm of the train, slips into a nap. The journey to Gaza unfolds as a tapestry of urban sprawls, verdant farmlands, and undulating desert vistas. Toyo eventually awakes and I seamlessly weave stories with the shifting tableau outside our windows, painting vivid pictures of my childhood memories in the Mediterranean's beaches, my family’s chaos, and breathtaking sunsets.

As we traverse into Gaza, the landscape transitions from the arid grandeur of the desert to the captivating allure of the Mediterranean coast. The tantalizing scent of saltwater permeated the air, heralding a day filled with the symphony of crashing waves and the succulence of ripe fruits. I squeeze Toyo’s hands to check if she is ready and awake. Toyo settles in her seat ready to get off the train. As soon as the train settles into the station, I feel Toyo jumping off her seat. Unable to wait, she rushes to grab the bags and get off the train. I stumble and follow her out of the train.

I text Samer, my cousin, to let them know we are here, they immediately text me they are outside. We exit the station to see Samer in their orange cap and a purple summer dress surrounded by all the cousins. The eager anticipation of my cousins, rushing forth to envelop us in warm embraces, heralded the beginning of a beautiful day. We are received by the harmonious melody of the sea and the inviting embrace of sun-kissed sands. The cousins take all of our bags and munch on some of our snacks, rushing away to the family’s umbrella at the shoreline.

My heart leaps with uncontainable joy at the sight of my family. I hold Toyo’s hands in adoration of her infectious laughter as she playfully tugs me towards the crescent of chairs arranged by the water's edge. As we approach my aunties, uncles, and Sido and Jeddo, they all rise from their seats and envelop us in a tidal wave of hugs and kisses. The air is charged with palpable excitement, the anticipation of reuniting us with the family for the first time since our wedding.

The aunties immediately start reminiscing about the beautiful day. It was a mere six months ago and still lingering in all our memories. It was a breathtaking affair, set against the backdrop of the serene shores of Taba, Egypt caressed by the gentle waves of the Red Sea. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the beach, and the festivities began. I could see my aunties’ eyes sparkling with the magic of that unforgettable evening as they thought back to the day.

The rhythm of Palestinian folk music intertwined seamlessly with the pulsating beats of Afrobeats and the infectious energy of mahragant. The dance floor became a stage for cultural fusion, as guests moved to the eclectic blend of melodies. Each step was a celebration. The air reverberated with the vibrant sounds of African and Arab drumming, infusing the night with life and joy. A night that has forever been etched in our collective memory. It was everything I dreamt of and more and everyone can’t help but feel the same joy they felt then when recalling the day.

I look over to my side to see Sido and Toyo chatting, the two have a tradition of exchanging knitted goodies every time they see each other. Sido pulls out a beautiful burgundy cardigan he knitted for Toyo. Toyo smiling ear to ear holding the cardigan close, “Thank you so much, Sido, I love the color, it is the perfect size too.” Toyo turns and brings out an olive green blanket she made for him and his eyes tear up with joy. I hear his loud and energetic voice excitedly say "Thank you, ya amar," clutching the blanket. "It's perfect for the cool summer evenings here." He has a special place in his heart for Toyo, their bond is so sacred.

I’m already hungry again and inhaling Amto Fawziyeh’s ma’moul and fatayer. I wash it down with the sugar cane juice I brought with me from Cairo. Jeddo, squats down, fans the coal, preps the grill, and then calls to me, pointing to a cooler where he has figs, watermelon and grapes just for me. I immediately dive in without hesitation, “Thank you ya albi, I missed Falastin’s fruits so much.”

Sido rushes and interrupts us eating and chatting, insisting it is time to dive into the sea. Unable to say no to the love of his life, Jeddo designates Samer to watch over the grill and he follows Sido to the sea. I can see him looking at Sido with love pouring in his eyes, watching his spouse run towards the water. I am so glad Sido beat me to it, because Jeddo would never ask him to wait and I was ready to be in the sea. Overjoyed, I drag Toyo to follow and we make our way to the water's edge. Toyo hesitates, worried that the waves may be a bit too high. I try to reassure her, but only Jeddo’s steadying hand will convince her to join. Toyo takes his offered hand. He sighs “We are part of the sea, ya Jeddo, it knows how to hold us; let the waves carry you in.” He gently guides her through the waves, hopping through one by one. They make it past the high waves; reassured by Jeddo, Toyo dives right in with him.

Trusting that Toyo is in good hands, I swim ahead with Sido, diving into the inviting waves saying “ta da da dadada ta da da daa” matching the waves' vibrations. Sido looks over at Toyo and shares “the sea is where all prayers are answered, ya habeeba, pray and ask for all that your heart is calling for.” He calls on the vastness of the sea to bring an abundance of joy and softness to our life. We wiggle in the water like fish and unbridled joy washes over me as I take in this moment.

Two people approach the water. I squint my eyes trying to figure out who they are. Toyo giggles, making fun of my terrible sight and confirms it is my parents. Laila and Hassan dive, giggling and humming to the song of the waves dancing. This is my favorite part of the trip: I get to swim with Baba and Mama into the deep crystal blue, our sea tradition. They dive right in and make their way over and I rush their greetings “yalla Baba lets go, I have been waiting for you to get here to go in.” Toyo looks at me, giving me the “you better be careful” eyes. We start swimming like fish in the water, my heart syncing with the rhythm of every wave and stroke.

Baba notices Mama swimming behind us. The three of us make our way into the sea till land turns to a speck and the lifeguard starts whistling in the megaphones warning us to not go any further and we heed their call. All we can see is where the sky kisses the water. With every splash and every dive, we revel in the rhythm of the Mediterranean, our hearts entwined with the timeless beauty of our home. We float with our faces up in the same spot. In the embrace of the sea, amidst the laughter and the crashing waves, I feel an indescribable sense of serenity—a deep gratitude to be in Palestinian waters.

Nothing makes me feel at home quite like swimming deep into the sea; I feel so lucky to have been swimming on the same stretch of the shore–West in Egypt’s Sahel and East in Gaza’s Bahr. The sound of waves and chirping birds surround me, all thoughts fade away as my body blends with the ocean blue, and the universe whispers songs of joy, protection, and ease. My heart has never felt so light and full at the same time. Daydreaming I almost drift away until Baba notices and calls on me to swim back. Baba and Mama hold me close, all three of us cycling in the water, just like when I was a kid.

Mama hears my stomach growling and gestures it is time to head back. She starts humming with the waves and guides us back to the shore. Toyo and the grandparents had already made their way out, back to the umbrella. The cousins see us coming out of the water and rush over holding up towels. We curl up into them and walk over to the umbrella. Baba, in classic manner, lays out a dry towel on the sand in the sun and lays down to dry and I follow laying right next to him as Jeddo and Toyo prep the food together. Toyo does not like cooking, but she loves helping Jeddo by the grill, the smell of grilled fish reminds her of the grilled fish she ate growing up in Lagos.

The family gathers on the sand and indulges; Amto urges the kids to eat all their food. The spread includes grilled fish, calamari, spicy gazan salad packed with all the chili it can take, hummus, tabbouleh, and an array of seafood that were all eaten with fresh bread.

Sido recalls stories of her early married days with Jeddo in the village before they had all their kids “Subhanallah, who would have known that we would all be sitting just a few kilometers away from where your Jeddo and I met for the first time? Back then, we could not spend a day like this in Gaza, but we knew this day would come. Alhamdulella for the gift of life, for the sea, the food, and you, jewels of my soul.” As I listen to him I can feel joy settle in my chest and my eyes tearing up.

I look over to the shore, taking in the view of the sun dancing towards the sea, casting a warm glow over the beach. Samer gets up and pulls me up with him and calls for the rest of the cousins to join, their laughter harmonizing with the waves. We rise in dabkeh, our feet moving in unison to the beat of the oud Ammo Yasser is playing. I can feel my feet fluttering through the sand, as the ground dances to our beat. Samer looks beautiful as the orange of the sky reflects off their skin; they were glowing in bliss.

As evening embraces the beach, we start to slowly make our way from Gaza to Alma, our hearts full of beautiful moments and bellies stuffed with food. We waddle sleepy and blissful to the train. We get on and slowly journey through the fading light, with the grandparents sharing stories of their childhood in Alma's stone-paved streets and the latest village gossip. Sido goes on about Amo Hamed’s new bakery and the aroma of freshly baked bread that has been wafting from their ovens all over the street. It sounds like a dream, there is nothing like waking to the smell of fresh bread filling the air.

The landscapes transition once again, this time from the coastal beauty of Gaza to the rolling hills and olive and fig groves of Alma. The village unveils itself like a painting on the canvas of time. The stone houses adorned with vibrant bougainvillea, and the jasmine flowers dancing with the wind in celebration of the family’s arrival. The air was infused with the scent of thyme and the comforting familiarity of home.

We finally arrive to the house, Jeddo’s voice softly asks if we would like to eat something before bed. Tired and sleepy I gesture with my hands on my belly that I am full to the brim and ready to float in sleep. We carry the bags up to our rooms and quickly fall asleep, drifting like waves into dreams.

As the first rays of dawn pierce through the darkness, and the scent of bread breaks through morning mist I open my eyes. Eagerly welcoming the arrival of a new day, I get right out of bed and get ready to head downstairs. I tiptoe down the stairs and, careful not to wake Toyo and Sido up, I make my way to the kitchen. To my delight Jeddo is, as expected, up early tending to the mint and sage plant pots by the window. I meet his warm smile and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. "Sabaho," he leans in, kissing me softly on the forehead before pouring me a steaming pot of coffee.

In this moment, surrounded by the gentle hum of nature awakening outside and the familiar sights and sounds of our home, I can feel the cool morning breeze caressing my face gently. It's as if time stands still, allowing me to fully be present in the beauty of this place–made all the more beautiful with the presence of Jeddo. This is our sacred morning time together. With each sip of coffee, the energy of the land infuses our very being. The energy here grounds me in a sense of calm and belonging that transcends time and space. I gaze out at the fields of green stretching out before me and I cannot help but feel grateful to share my favorite part of the day with my favorite person.

We sit on the balcony watching the sun rise over the village; the birds chirping and the smell of fresh bread takes over filling the air. As Jeddo reminisces, his voice carries the essence of the land itself—the symphony of olives being picked at harvest time, the heady fragrance of ripe figs hanging heavy on the branches, the rhythmic sound of water trickling through the soil to nourish the thirsty earth. To him, every sight, every sound, every scent was a testament to the resilience and vitality of Alma, a place where the past and present coexist in perfect harmony.

I long to freeze this moment in time, to etch it into my memory for all eternity. But the distant hum of the village, the smell of bread teasing my growling stomach is sign enough that breakfast is due. Together, we make our way back inside, to find Sido already kneading the dough and Toyo setting up the table. Jeddo has other plans for the family and calls Toyo to help him set up a table on the balcony instead, so we can eat in the sun. I can see Toyo’s breath taken away by the view from the balcony, the mountains looming in the distance and the fig trees swaying in the gentle breeze.

As Toyo follows Jeddo to the balcony, they collect some fresh olives, thyme, sage, and tomatoes from the garden. The aroma of the fresh herbs mingles with the sweet smell of the ripe tomatoes, filling the air around us. Meanwhile, I carry trays of manaeesh to Amo's bakery with the cousins. The smell of akkawi cheese, Za'atar, olive oil, and Muhammara waft through the streets, drawing in people from far and wide. I give Hana the baker figs, Za'atar and sage from our garden and she helps us take the manaeesh out of the oven and back to the house.

We sit around the table, enjoying the freshly baked manaeesh, the warm sun, and each other's company. Jeddo asks “Where are Laila and Hassan, have you seen them?”

Sido replies “They probably went on their usual morning walk; they should be back shortly.” Toyo, lost in admiration of the view from the balcony, notices two people approaching from a distance “Ah I see them Jeddo, they are here!” My parents return from their morning stroll through the village, the warmth of the rising sun illuminating their faces. I see them carrying a woven basket filled with plump dates. “Ahla Sabah ya Hilween.” Mama greets everyone, and settles herself next to me. Hungry, her eyes twinkling at the sight of the fresh labneh, she asks me “Mama, can you pass the Labneh?”

“Did you sleep well, Habibi?" she asks warmly. Nodding and passing her the labneh, "Very well, Mama, thank you. After a day at the sea and the fresh air here I slept like a baby." Baba chuckles, taking a seat beside Mama. "That's the magic of Alma, isn't it? Nothing quite like it." I nod in agreement, tearing off a piece of warm bread to stuff my face with foul. "There is nothing like Alma’s food; everything tastes better here. Something in the soil and the air are different."

Mama’s gaze softens watching me with a sense of pleasure swelling in her chest. "We're blessed. To be surrounded by family and the beauty of our land is a gift from Allah, Allah yehmeekom w yese’dkom ya mama." Baba nods in agreement, his eyes sparkling with affection. He reaches for a date from the basket replying "Laila habibi yalla finish your food, so you are all fueled up to head to the gardens with Ammy.”

Jeddo giggles "Not before tea with the dates you've brought first. No need to rush into the fields just yet, my son. Take your time." With that, they settle into their chairs, enveloped in the soothing fragrance of freshly brewed tea and the delightful sweetness of the dates. It feels like time stretches and slows down, like a lazy cat basking in the warmth of the sun.

Full and ready for a walk, I rise from my seat "Habibi, Toyo, let's go for a walk?” I extend a hand to my beloved wife. With her belly extending in front of her and a satisfied smile, she pulls on my hand to get up. The morning sunbathes the village in a radiant glow, casting everything in golden hues as we stand at the threshold of Alma. In this moment, our hearts feel intertwined with the very spirit of the land, pulsating with the murmur of the trees. Toyo shares, “Our relationship has been a journey of realizing that home isn't just a dot on a map, but a living, breathing entity that weaves my story with yours. I fell in love with Alma through your eyes, through your heart. It is crazy how familiar this place feels for me.” I hug Toyo, I am always in awe of how she is able to put words to feelings so beautifully. I run out of words to describe the comfort and joy of existing with ease in the quiet embrace of nature with the love of my life. It is a gift to be anchored in each other’s legacies, bearing witness and honoring the present while forging our path together, in love and dedication to our lands and people.

● sabaho - good morning

● habibi - my love

● yalla - let’s go

● sunnah - Muslims follow certain habits and actions in the way the Prophet Mohammed PBUH had performed. They are seen to promote our overall well being and balance.

● fatayer - Savoury Pies typically filled with cheese, spinach, a red pepper paste or thyme (Za’taar).

● foul - Fava bean dish that is very popular across South West Asian and North Africa and largely eaten for breakfast

● Asab - sugarcane juice

● taba - A city in Egypt and on the border with Palestine, the Red Sea is the most gorgeous there and the waters are both Palestinian and Egyptian waters.

● ma’moul - Palestinian cookie, typically filled with dates or nuts. This specific one is made by Nada’s aunt.

● albi - My heart and endearing term used to express love.

● Sahel - Shoreline

● Bahr - Sea

● tabbouleh - A Levantine salad made of parsley, bulgur, tomato and onion.

● Amo - uncle

● Za'atar - is thyme spiced and roasted in a traditional Palestinian way, it’s used very often as part of various Palestinian dishes, as well as, eaten on its own with bread and olive oil.

● manaeesh - Palestinian savoury baked goods filled with cheese, thyme (Za’ataar), Res pepper paste (Mubammra) and much more.

● Ahla Sabah ya Hilween - Most beautiful morning, lovelies

● Labneh - A Levantine strained yogurt dip commonly

● Allah yehmeekom w yese’dkom ya mama - May Allah protect you and bring you joy.

● Ammy - my uncle