About ameenah

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So far ameenah has created 3 entries.

Love, in Blueberries

The following post was written by Global Gap Year Fellow Ameena Hester.

There is penance in stillness, in empty houses, and quiet streets where not even a usual motorcycle vrooms by. Transfixed by passing clouds of absolute nothingness, in my bed, (which I should probably get out of). I had so many, so many pages of my journal saturated with goals. I sealed the deals with folded page corners, promises I’d get back to them. Ever since I came back home to the wintry season’s embrace here in the States from the bustle of Cairo, irresistible whims of ~ American life~ overwhelmed and lullabied me. Ordering breakfast foods in the wee hours of the night? Yeah. Grabbing a light jacket because it might possibly get cold (gasp) out? Yes ma’am. Going to bed at a decent time because there are no more papers to grade? Mhmm.

Time was mine. Why […]

By |January 18th, 2019|Gappers in the Field|

Where We Go from Here

The following post was written by Global Gap Year Fellow Ameena Hester. 

Like an idiot, I was making shapes with my mouth in the mirror. ‘Bi sarraHa. BI sarraHA. Bi sarrAHa.’ I even threw in a hand gesture or two and convinced myself for a second that I had it down.

But it was far, far from down.

Ever since I stepped foot in this beautiful country, the wind in my chest has stood still. A part of me found itself invigorated with new senses. Who couldn’t be? Mother of the world, birthplace of Moses, home of my roots. Picture this: the air is drunk with humidity. Distant whistles. City dust settles in your lungs like a prodigious rite of passage. An old man is selling honey out of a vessel in his satchel.

(Vine voice: Is this allowed??)

Crowded, chipped sidewalks are spirited by the raillery of women babbling about so-and-so, effete men […]

By |October 24th, 2018|Gappers in the Field|

Pre-Departure: A World of Octobers

The following post was written by Global Gap Year Fellow Ameena Hester.

I was somewhere between wanderlust and weary when it hit me. Or maybe it was August’s gentle nothings of salty air singing through the dock’s worn timber, my eyes saluting the sun. I think it was the cacophony of Purple Martin birds retiring to their nests in English pines, and the Atlantic’s incessant, effervescent kiss with the shore.

A dull ache throbs within me for when all of this turns to umber and earth. The year’s most beautiful wardrobe change; but to miss reveling in its glory! Nothing quite compares to North Carolina in the fall.

This is the place where Octobers are born. The ebb and flow of people with all-too-flushed skin and farmer freckles sown about the bridge of their noses, now succumbing to the finale of summer. Storms clouds turn violet. School children give a unanimous sigh […]

By |August 31st, 2018|Gappers in the Field|