I was helping my mom make some Kibbeh. For those who never tried it, Kibbeh is a famous Lebanese dish, made of meat and Burghul, a type of grain, molded into an oval and stuffed with meat. I am drooling at the mere description. Anyway, at some point I had to mince the whole mix, about four pounds, in a cup-sized chopper. A task I was so happy to do, while my husband was trying to keep the kids entertained and happy. No need to say how that went!
As I started filling up the chopper and emptying it, I started to enjoy the little space my brain had to think of anything I chose. You don’t get to do that often as a mom of three kids under the age of four. I was contemplating the world we live in, where each group is struggling to exist, coexist or survive. Muslims want to be self-expressed. Women want their rights. Minorities want a voice. Ethnic groups want equality… It seemed to me like something has gotten this world predefined and left people fighting over redefining it.
When we demand our rights, it automatically means someone has taken them away. When we fight for peace, we are actually fighting, not making peace. When we reject discrimination we are in fact creating a front. It seemed to me like we are all in a defensive position, waiting to be cued.
Are we the reason for creating a troublesome world? Why is it a struggle to belong? to fit in? to stand out? or speak up?
I wasn’t able to dig deeper into my thoughts as my little grinding task was over, and I looked really weird standing in the corner pretending there is still something to do. I went back to being the chore processing machine I was just before my little promenade, content with the peace within.
By the time Iftar was up, the time by which Muslims break their fast. I was pretty indulged in eating those delicious Kibbeh and the whole world seemed just perfect the way it is.by