My UN told story

My untold story.

The hoopoe...the ants...the bees...the crow...the cats

The clouds in the sky

The dense, entwined trees

The signs on the cars and the billboards in the streets

The conversations of children and the elderly.

Things that come to mind when I write about my sacred secrets.

And about my untold story, the policeman came to me and said, "Your father will be out in 20 minutes. Congratulations, and we hope not to see him here again." My joy almost killed me and my family. My father had been away from us for nearly three months. We knew nothing about him. He used to make sure to tell us a bedtime story. His novels were foreign and entertaining. He would translate English stories for us, such as "Moonfleet" and others. He would divide them into parts so he could excite us. I was six years old when he didn't come one Thursday to tell us his story. I noticed my aunts, uncles, and grandfather were there. I wondered what had brought them and where my father was. When I asked one of my aunts, she would give me a warm hug and start crying. When the six days had passed, I heard the women whispering, "My father was arrested. No one knew where he was. There was no news of him. His opposition to the ruling regime was the reason for his arrest." I could only understand that given my young age in prison, he would soon come to take care of us and tell us bedtime stories. At this time of my life, with my strong attachment to my father and his sudden disappearance,

I found within myself a passion for nature.

I began to observe the movement of ants and their carrying of food.

Their cooperation to crumble a loaf of bread.

I was amazed at their diligence in working.

Why didn't they stop to rest or have a cup of tea?

Then I would wonder:

Why didn't anyone argue about their share of the spoils?

Who was their leader? Did he wear a crown and ride in a luxurious carriage?

Then I began to observe the ant burrow under the green neem tree my father had planted years before.

Then my unique sense and feeling began to appear in the form of small heartbeats.

When the ants drew intertwined lines that met in one long line, my heart would rejoice and its beats would increase.

The day would not end without some good news that made me happy.

I memorized this and that feeling.

Then, while observing the ants, I noticed the arrival of a hoopoe with beautiful feathers.

It landed at the end of the neem tree. It would land for a while and then fly away. So I would give it water and bird food so it would stay for a little while. Then it would sometimes show off and fluff up its feathers. That day, I would receive many compliments or gifts that would delight my heart. When the hoopoe hits the ground with its beak, it means something will happen that will not make me happy. All these things were happening under the neem trees in the garden my father had planted.

Then I started coming every day after school to check on my little kingdom and take care of it.

When I raised my head to the top of the tree, I saw a strange shape I didn't know what it was: a yellow, cracked mass.

I quickly called someone.

It was a dormant beehive.

Its presence in one of the houses meant that this house held hidden secrets, according to the women's stories, or perhaps a treasure buried many years ago.

The matter grew stranger to me.

Every day, my connection with nature grew stronger.

I brought flowers and placed them in pots so the bees could find nectar to feed on.

I wasn't afraid of their stings.

I could hear a buzzing sound above my head as they built their hive, but I was still observing their movements and their harmony, as well as the crownless queen, surrounded by the guards and their husbands. Sometimes they carried the bee larvae, and sometimes they supported them on the sides. When the bees remain hovering around the white rose, emitting a loud buzz, that is a sign of impending goodness.

And if they enter their hive and leave repeatedly within a short period of time, that is something unpleasant that will happen.

I never knew who placed this feeling within me, how it was true with these creatures, or even how it came true.

Perhaps my sense of losing my father, and that I was a nucleus of a large, harmonious galaxy, was what made me seek out a small cat and care for it.

The signs of the hoopoe, the bees, the cats, and even the crow, which I feared and which used to come to me with its friends when a loved one died.

Then came the death of my father and my beloved grandmother, may God have mercy on them both.

They were all messages from the universe to me.

Then I began to pay attention to the words on carts and street signs to glean from them what would happen to me, whether good or bad.

I began to pay attention to the conversations of children and the elderly if I had an unsolvable problem or was torn between two options.

All of these things were telling me something. One

They all told me that the universe has one key

And we must realize it.

I developed that feeling by asking my cat, at a young age, to tell my mother that I wanted pink shoes with brown braids.

And my mother actually bought them for me.

Then I asked the hoopoe for a necklace of white pearls for my birthday.

And my father bought it for me.

And so on.

When I learned this at that young age, my father had spent three months in prison.

I missed him one summer night. I woke up in the middle of the night and sat in the middle of the bed in a spacious courtyard in my house overlooking the sky.

Everyone was asleep.

I raised my small hands in prayer.

"Oh God, bring my father back to me."

I missed him so much, and my tears rained down my cheeks.

Then I saw the clouds moving and transforming into the face of a small, caring child looking at me with compassionate eyes.

That face stared at me for a short moment, then disappeared.

I found my heart. Shining

I found myself certain that the sky had heard my prayer

and that it was the cloud that had brought him to God Almighty

Then came the sure news

When my father was released the next day because he had committed no crime and his arrest was unjustified.

My father came back to tell us evening stories

But he found that I had made other honest friends

He found that I had learned the secret of life

And created my own world where there is no lying or hypocrisy

A world filled with love and kindness

So I decided to write my story that has not yet been told