Khalid Al Ghassani – författare

The Old Tarqovani Song Sleep, my dear.The sun will shine.Look at me…Sleep, my dear.The lions will rise.The lambs will run.We are a world that has been taken.We are the grandchildren of sorrow…We are the children of tears…Where are the people who once carried you, Dear…Oh, we are the ones who have long lost our mothers and fathers…Where the criminals hide…Let them laugh, my Sweet…Let them bury our land…Let them make us cry…Oh those damned humans, here stands a General waiting…Oh here is his little girl…the Master of Generals…Waiting…Waiting to uproot the garden of oppressors…Let them…my Sweet…Let them…The sun will shine.

Republic of LookeThe Last Descendant"e;If you want to know the meaning of the most tragic loss—look into the eyes of General Khan. Even God Himself might bow for a moment when gazing into them."e;—Captain Aqele "e;General Khan is the fire that burns the world of Tarqovani. Captain Aqele is the compass still trying to point the way, even though Khan's needle has already bent."e;—Alenka Layer Ostrava St.Bells8 January 19937:00 "e;Mrs. Bevia, the church needs help. But the priest is worried because you are now Muslim."e;My mother shook her head with a smile. "e;Sister, I only changed religion. But I am still human. Wait here."e;The nun nodded.I stood in front of the door. Waiting for my mother.The nun smiled as she looked at me.I saw her closed black clothing. A veil. And a cross necklace hanging around her neck.My mother returned, handing over a brown envelope.The nun took it. "e;You are indeed a noble woman, Ma'am. May God always protect you."e;My mother smiled. "e;And your God as well."e;My mother and the nun embraced."e;Nothing stands between us, right?"e; my mother asked with a smile.The nun smiled. "e;Yes, Mrs. Bevia."e; And she brushed over my head: "e;Who is this handsome young boy?"e;"e;Khan. His mother's son. A fan of Ostrava potato soup."e; My mother looked at me with love, touching my shoulder, gently. Too soft to be called a touch.The nun smiled, her soft finger touching my small chin. "e;Ah, really, dear?"e;I gave a faint smile.The nun looked back at my mother, smiling again. "e;Handsome. Like his mother."e;My mother smiled."e;Mrs. Bevia, if you don't mind, we would like to bring the potato harvest from the church yard. Sister Lis will deliver it this afternoon."e;"e;Thank you, Sister,"e; my mother said.The nun nodded and left.I held onto my mother's arm.We stood there, watching the nun jog lightly through the snow of Ostrava, among the oak trees, colorful wildflowers, and the rooftops of neighboring houses covered in snow.The neighing of a horse in the distance.Mother bent down, kissing my forehead. "e;Mother love you."e;I smiled, hugging her, letting my small body rest in her embrace. "e;I love you too, Mom."e;Long, and lingering, as if I never wanted to let her go.From a distance, I saw a soldier approaching our house. My father. Lieutenant Zabbir.