1.      Go To MY Computer.

2.      Choose Local Disk (C: ).

3.      Go To Program Files.

4.      Go To Microsoft Office.

5.      Go To MEDIA.

6.      Go To CAGCAT10.

Ah, I found this in the process

However, there was that face that whenever I saw, bitterness would change into hope, and sorrow into joy. A face that hadn’t learned the language of sorrow yet, and sang in a totally different tune. It was Angy’s.

Angy, at that time, was the very youngest member of the family. A gorgeous, extremely innocent 6 month-old baby girl. She had a perfectly rounded head, mops of smooth, straight brownish hair and the bonniest pair of eyes. Her chubby mellow cheeks, along with her toothy smile beaming through her full-moon face made her absolutely irresistible.

She was even more adorable when she sat on the big couch, half-bent over, with her tiny little legs stretched out, leaving her feet not so far from her tummy. A posture that would make her look like a small tennis ball.

 Her name was a bit heavy on our tongues. It’s Turkish for angel. I also heard that it means a group of seven heaven beauties. Quite special!

 Despite the beautiful and unique meanings, we had a tendency to use an easier-pronounced nickname. We called her Annoona. A bit long for a nickname, but we got the hang of it at last.

“Little girls are the cutest thing on earth!” I would frequently repeat, being under the influence of that little enchantress.

For me, Angy - or Annoona -was not a mere little chubby cute baby. She was a symbol of life, hope, renovation and everything good left on earth.

However, there was a time when she caused me to cry, though indirectly.

I entered the living room in my grandma’s house and found them looking at some pictures of Annoonah, printed on A4 papers. I grabbed the pile of pictures and exclaimed joyfully to my cousin, Mais: “Hey! Annoona’s pictures!” She nodded with a not-so-happy expression.

I sat next to her looking at pictures; she didn’t seem interested at all.

 I couldn’t understand the reason behind her screwed up mood, till I reached a paper on which was the photo of our late grandfather with Annoona in his lap. On the picture there were 3 verses of poetry, the small poem that my grandfather had composed for Angy, his youngest grandchild, few months before he passed away, signed at the bottom of the page with the cordial dedication:

From grandfather Ibrahim Al-Salah to dearest granddaughter Angy Al-Salah

Reading that stirred dozens of emotions and brought tears to my eyes that I tried to hold back. But the mission became harder as I looked at Mais, realizing the reason behind her frown that started to dissolve into a muffled cry.

Failing to mute the pressing sentiment, and without uttering a single word, we rushed to the kitchen and wept openly.

“You mean my X-fiancé. We’ve broken up.” She said, trying to fake a shy smile.

“Why, what happened?”

“He had a fight with my father. He tried to apologize but my dad wouldn’t accept it. Later on the roles were reversed, and he got back at my father by dumping me”

I wasn’t in a position to make a judgment, but I certainly felt terribly sorry for the poor girl. Being abandoned by someone you love is the worst heart-breaking feeling a girl could experience.

“What if they have reconciled?” I thought to myself. “The whole problem might have been forgotten in a matter of weeks.”

I wonder how much time she needs to overcome her abandonment.

That is how I see it: The father refused to compromise at the beginning, the son-in-law refused to compromise afterwards, and the girl had to pay for it.

“Why did the girl’s feelings have to be in the second place?”

Well, something had to be sacrificed at the end, and it couldn’t be the superior macho pride!

Typical male society.

“Or maybe he didn’t love her enough” I wondered in a second thought.

But, how much is enough?

A relative term, I thought.

“Maybe I should stop here” I thought to myself. “I’m sort of a hardliner when it comes to this subject ”

Is it me who is asking for too much, or I am really not getting enough?

Someone who can’t even say Love and uses a term like this subject instead, must be having a problem.

Nonetheless, I have to admit that there were times when I felt an excessive need for love, not in its direct narrow meaning, but for love as a vast concept. In other words, I needed people.

One of those weary nights where I felt as if a huge stone was resting upon my heart, I rambled between pressing random thoughts that dashed through my brain like an angry stampede.

“The amount of love you give determines the amount of love you get from others.” That one seemed fairly logical.

“But” I thought, “Giving someone all the love you could is no guarantee that you’ll get anything in return.” That one woke up a not-so-nice memory.

Which nullifies which? Neither.

As I wrote this, the idea seemed more complicated than I thought, and it diverged into several theories and possibilities.

“Love is such a dilemma.”

"Our use of phrase 'The Dark ages' to cover the period from 699 to 1,000 marks our undue concentration on Western Europe... "From India to Spain, the brilliant civilization of Islam flourished. What was lost to christendom at this time was not lost to civilization, but quite the contrary...

"To us it seems that West-European civilization is civilization, but this is a narrow view."

"The Islamic teachings have left great traditions for equitable and gentle dealings and behavior, and inspire people with nobility and tolerance. These are human teachings of the highest order and at the same time practicable. These teachings brought into existence a society in which hard-heartedness and collective oppression and injustice were the least as compared with all other societies preceding it....Islam is replete with gentleness, courtesy, and fraternity."

"During the period of the Caliphs the learned men of the Christians and the Jews were not only held in great esteem but were appointed to posts of great responsibility, and were promoted to the high ranking job in the government....He (Caliph Haroon Rasheed) never considered to which country a learned person belonged nor his faith and belief, but only his excellence in the field of learning."