A Journey Through Homes: Reflections on Nostalgia and Stability

I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately, thinking about the many houses I’ve lived in over the years—26 in total across my 46 years of life. Despite all the moving, one constant anchored me: my 12 years at the same school in Abu Dhabi. The school buses could go anywhere in the city, so no matter where we lived, I never had to change schools. That stability kept me grounded, even as we hopscotched across neighborhoods.

It all started in a flat on Nadi Syahi, in the Tourist Club area. Before that, we lived on Hamdan Street, one of Abu Dhabi’s older streets. I remember my grandfather sitting at the small grocery shop downstairs, handing me lollipops or chocolates whenever I came down. Those moments are etched in my memory. A year later, we moved to the Tourist Club flat, where I started first grade. I’d wait for the school bus in the early winter mornings, the world still dark outside. That same building saw the opening of a Baskin Robbins, and on its launch day, they gave out free ice cream. I must’ve gone down every hour for an orange-flavored cone—a flavor I’ve never seen since.

Then came our first villa, on the Corniche. It had a backyard where I started playing football. Weekends (then just Fridays) were spent visiting my grandparents in Al Ain. Their traditional house in Al Yahar had a garden where my grandmother grew lettuce and tomatoes. Later, they built a simple concrete pool, filled with hose water, where we’d splash around as kids. Summers were spent begging to stay with them longer, snuggling with my grandmother at night.

We moved again, this time to a small house near the passport office. It barely had a yard, but it was our first villa. After that, we lived in a compound at ADCO, where I became the unofficial keeper of the small football field. I’d arrange games for the neighborhood kids, a role I loved. Later, we moved to Al Karama, where we lived in three different houses. One was a three-story villa that used to be the Chinese embassy. My father built me a room on the roof, complete with its own toilet—a unique experience.

Throughout all this, my school remained my anchor. The buses went everywhere, even to Al Wathbah and Shamkha, so I never had to change schools or leave my friends. To this day, I’m still in touch with some of them.

At home, my sister and I created our own worlds. In one house, we turned a half-circle window into a football goal, pretending to hold tryouts with rubber balls. I’d invent backstories for each “player,” and my sister, the goalkeeper, would decide who made the national team. In another house, we used empty fragrance bottles as skyscrapers, driving toy cars around them. We’d play with toy soldiers and zoo animals, building entire cities and farms. When relatives visited, we’d act out plays from books, assigning roles to everyone.

Our rituals were simple but sacred. During school days, I’d wake up early, take the bus, and return home for lunch. My mother insisted we finish our plates, much to our dismay. After homework, we’d eagerly wait for the one hour of cartoons from 4 to 5 PM. That hour was magic. The rest of the day was spent playing with my sister, creating stories and worlds.

Holidays were even more imaginative. We’d wake up late, watch Kuwaiti comedy plays like *Bye Bye London* or *Laulaki*, and stay up late playing. Once, I convinced my sister to create her own magazine, inspired by *Majid*. We’d sell each other puzzles, and I’d always make mine impossible to solve, pocketing an extra dirham in the process.

Looking back, I realize how much my parents encouraged our creativity. They gave us the space and time to be kids, to build worlds out of nothing. And in a way, that’s what home became for me—not a place, but a feeling stitched together by imagination, siblings, and the steady rhythm of rituals.

So, to anyone who’s ever felt unmoored by frequent moves, know this: home isn’t lost in the shuffle. It’s carried in the stories you tell, the games you invent, and the people who make every new place feel like yours.

Journey Through The Land of Poetry: A Deep Dive into My Recent Interview

Hello, dear readers!

I recently had the pleasure of appearing on Emirates Channel on their morning show program “Morning of the Emirates”, where I had the opportunity to delve into the world of reading and poetry and its significance to both the individual and society. The interview was a stimulating and enlightening conversation and I'm thrilled to share it with you all.

During the conversation, we explored the nuances of Arabic and English poetry and how my work serves as a bridge between these two rich literary traditions. Through my books, "Taintlessness" and "Fields of Poetry," I hope to provide a gateway for Arabic speakers to venture into the world of English poetry, and vice versa. This exchange of culture and perspective is one of the most rewarding aspects of my work.

The books were also part of the vibrant Abu Dhabi International Book Fair, an event that never fails to inspire with its celebration of literature and creativity. The interactions I had there were truly heartening. Meeting you, discussing the books, and hearing about the impact my work has had on you was a highlight of the event.

One of my books, "Taintlessness", has a particularly unique design that encapsulates my artistic vision. It features a large bird composed of smaller birds of various types and shapes, all white against a black background. This design represents the purity and perfection I strive for in my work, while the diversity of the birds reflects the range of topics I explore in my poetry. The bird symbolizes the freedom of thought and expression, the ability to transcend the ordinary and venture into new realms.

I invite you all to watch the interview. Let's continue the conversation started in the interview - I would love to hear your thoughts on poetry, how it moves you, and what you think of my work.

Additionally, I encourage you to dive deeper into the world of poetry by checking out "Taintlessness" and "Fields of Poetry". Both books are available for purchase and I can't wait to hear your interpretations and insights.

Finally, I hope you will follow me on social media and keep up to date with my latest thoughts and works on this blog. Your engagement and interactions truly make this journey worthwhile.

Thank you for joining me in the exploration of poetry and the beauty of words. I look forward to hearing from you soon!

With warm regards,

Omar Albeshr