If Only I Could Fly….

 The Awakening of Layla

The dreams are repetitious. She is a teen in Erbil, holding hands with other girls, laughing, and running toward the Kirkuk Citadel. Giggling and gossiping about the boys who hang out by their school, they are closely watched by their parents sitting on mats, drinking tea, and snacking on lokum and watermelon. Right next to them is the Prophet Daniel Mosque, surrounded by a patch of green grass. The park is nothing like those lush, green, blooming pieces of heaven that are dotted all over Toronto, but it was “home,” that arid piece of barren land that passed off as a park in a part of the world where the future is always uncertain and the past is compromised. They used to run around the park, chasing each other, nibbling on their koftas and khubz, while the men stood in corners, chain-smokers to the core, puffing away and arguing about politics and heated discussions about Kurdish nationalism. It was not exactly a cosmopolitan city like her new home, but you would occasionally hear a cacophony of Turkish and Arabic, along with Kurdish, of course.

In the heart of Scarborough, Toronto, amidst the cacophony of diverse cultures and bustling streets, Layla found herself at a crossroads. Her journey from Erbil to the promising shores of Canada had been a tumultuous one, filled with hardships, resilience, and sheer willpower. That morning, as the sun rose over the horizon, Layla stood by the window of her modest apartment, gazing out at the vibrant neighbourhood below. It had been six years since she had arrived in this new land, seeking a future that was not exactly planned. With a degree in English literature and a heart full of dreams, she embarked on a journey to carve out a new life for herself. She studied hard, encouraged by a father who believed in her future and became an English teacher. Every day she utters a shukr that she is able to become one. Her degree made the transition to cross the Atlantic and start a life from scratch much easier.

After the toppling of Saddam, there was euphoria. Their homeland, the Iraqi portion of Kurdistan, would become autonomous with the help of the Americans. Then there was the disastrous referendum and all of that disappeared. The Iraqis established their authority once more, and like in Mosul, the Arabization process started. Tired after generations of betrayals by others, it was none other than her father who cajoled her to take admission for yet another teacher's training course in Canada, and here she was.

She graduated with flying colors, but no one seemed interested in hiring her. Money was always tight, and she had to think on her feet. Her first job was at a fast-food restaurant, flipping burgers and serving fries to indifferent customers. It was a far cry from the career in teaching and writing that she had envisioned for herself. But Layla refused to be disheartened. With unwavering determination, she worked long hours and saved every penny, inching closer to her goals with each passing day. It paid off. Finally, she landed a teaching job in a center that catered to newcomers and found this place she could afford not far from Victoria Park. It was tiny, a bit too quiet, but it was a place of her own.

Despite the obstacles she faced, Layla found solace in the small joys of everyday life. She immersed herself in the vibrant culture of Scarborough, befriending neighbors from all corners of the globe and soaking in the rich tapestry of languages and traditions. People around her spoke Somali, Hindi, Bengali, Arabic, Ukrainian, Tamil, Pashto, Dari, and myriads of other languages. In their stories, she found echoes of her own struggles and triumphs, forging bonds that transcended borders and boundaries.

But amidst the hustle and bustle of her new life, Layla found herself grappling with unexpected emotions. A widowed Palestinian man named Ahmed had caught her eye, his gentle demeanor and kind heart stirring feelings she had long buried beneath the weight of her past. Yet, she hesitated to open her heart to love, uncertain of the future. Ahmed had escorted a couple from Jordan to her center, helping them to enroll in her class, and they had wanted to talk to the teacher. The fact that Layla also spoke Arabic turned the encounter into a cordial one. Ahmed had brought his 6-year-old son Ali, who stared at Layla and kept smiling. Afterward, when they were leaving, Ahmed turned back and sheepishly asked Layla out for a meal.

As Layla wrestled with her inner turmoil, Ahmed continued to court her with quiet persistence, showering her with acts of kindness and affection. Ali became a constant presence in her life, his laughter filling her days with warmth and joy. And though she tried to resist, Layla found herself drawn to the warmth of their embrace, longing for a future she had never dared to dream of.

Ahmed also had enough of his past life. Growing up in the shadows of the Israeli-Palestinian turmoil, Shuqba was a sleepy little hamlet south of Jerusalem. His father had owned olive groves, harvested honey, and grown oranges in a small plot next to the groves. Despite the turmoil, life went on. Then one day, a bunch of people showed up from across the border with guns, and claiming divine rights to the land, forced them out at gunpoint and turned them into refugees overnight. He was studying at Al Najah University at the time, and all of a sudden, he did not have a home to go back to. Somehow, through the kindness of his extended family, he managed to graduate and cross the border into Jordan to look for work. Jordan itself was teeming with refugees to the point where more than 80 percent of the population were Palestinians. They were wary of his presence. Finally, he managed to land a residency at the local hospital in a small town. By that time, his siblings were already dispersed in various places, namely Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan. One of his brothers, Sulaiman, managed to get himself to Cyprus and was repatriated to Canada as a refugee.

Meanwhile, Ahmed fell in love with a nurse at his hospital. Her name was Nadia, and in spite of considerable objections from her family, they married. Two years later, Ali came into their lives but at a heavy toll. Nadia died from excessive bleeding and did not get to see her new son. Her parents accused him of negligence and wanted to take Ali away. He refused. Somehow he managed a wet nurse and decided to pursue the life of a single father, a rather unusual choice in the Middle East. Eventually, he applied for residency in Canada and here he was, also struggling to land on his feet. When he saw Layla, something stirred. He could see in her eyes a longing for peace, stability, and happiness.

But amidst the joys of her newfound success, Layla could not shake the lingering doubts that plagued her mind. Her dreams made her doubt, casting a shadow over her blossoming romance with Ahmed. And as he pressed her for a commitment, she found herself torn between the promise of a future together and her dreams of being a self-reliant, independent woman who stood her ground. She did not want to be confined within the Eastern definitions of a traditional housewife bound to a household.

In the end, it was Ali who showed her the way forward. With his dogged pursuance and the wisdom of age, he reminded her that love was worth fighting for, even in the face of uncertainty and doubt. As Layla looked into his bright eyes, she saw a reflection of her own hopes and dreams, shining bright against the backdrop of a world filled with possibility. In Ali, she found the stirrings of motherhood that she had suppressed forever. Lacking a mother figure, Ali had adopted Layla instantly since they had initially met at her college.

Then one day, Ahmed asked Layla to come with them on a picnic. She made those lamb and herb rolls called sfiha and filled a large flask with orange blossom and honey tea. She knew that those rolls were Ali's favorites. On that pleasant Saturday morning, they came to pick her up. She noticed that he had a bag full of containers, which she knew was meant for a mezza platter. There was also a box of knafeh from her favorite Arabian bakery. Ali had a little bow tie on, with eyes sparkling and beaming ear to ear. They also had a large bag that had sheets and other paraphernalia for a picnic.

Layla was somewhat amused that Ahmed had called an Uber. They usually limited themselves to wherever the routes of the TTC took them. The car took them to Guild Park, full of discarded neo-Greco-Roman relics from demolished buildings, with breathtaking views of the lake. After a wonderful picnic that was full of laughter, they went for a walk. At one point, Ahmed took Layla’s left hand and brought out a tiny box. She looked at Ali and saw him with a very eager, longing face, hands clasped together as if pleading. She looked at his eyes and said “yes,” and before Ahmed could react, it was Ali who lunged at her, bawling. As they stood beneath the canopy of trees with the light beaming through, Layla knew that she had finally found her place in the world.

With newfound courage, Layla took Ahmed's hand and embarked on a journey of love and self-discovery. Together, they would navigate the challenges of blending their families and forging a future built on trust and mutual respect. In this newfound journey of love and self-discovery, Layla embraced the promise of a brighter tomorrow, knowing that with Ahmed and Ali by her side, anything was possible. Their love story was just beginning.