Goodbye, Arm

Author's name: Mujib Rahman Madhat

"Sakun" prostrated, whispering words that no one else heard. "Khadej" followed him, calling on her Lord, whom she followed through letters. She pulled hard on her spear, feeling Sama's white hair and caressing her muzzle. The mare made a gentle sound as she bent her neck gently. In front of them was Qahtan, covered only by his black loincloth, no shirt or turban. In one hand was a torch and in the other was his axe. Behind them were the men of the Al-Aber family and some of their women. They had armed themselves as best they could, painted their faces with mud, chanting satire, and inside them was an amazing feeling of strength, a feeling that their language did not have a word to describe. Khadej taught them that the name of that feeling is "al-Nafra", which is an offensive act to defend one's family or tribe, accompanied by a feeling of pride, strength and greatness. You look around you and see dozens of men, all from your family. Your history is one, and the same stories have been told to you by your grandmothers. You experienced the same pain, and now you want to take it off by killing your enemy.