Story of a Woman Who Listens with Her Eyes, Speaks with Her Heart

Story of a Woman Who Listens with Her Eyes, Speaks with Her Heart
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Story of a Woman Who Listens with Her Eyes, Speaks with Her Heart

Story of a Woman Who Listens with Her Eyes, Speaks with Her Heart

In the distant past, the ancient Greeks refused to teach the hearing impaired, believing that those were incapable of being educated. Other harmful theories followed, one of them claiming that a child losing the sense of hearing was as celestial punishment for the parents’ sins.

Fortunately, cultural and scientific advancement threw old notions away. A Spanish Benedictine monk named Pedro Ponce de Leon developed a method to teach the Deaf people sign language and finger-spelling.
This is, in short, how the sign language and lip-reading began to evolve.

But the most beautiful story is that of Mariam Al-Shehabi, who defied science, doctors and the Arab community and spoke, learned, graduated and succeeded, thanks to the love that her parents grew in her since they discovered, at the age of a year and a half, that she cannot not listen and therefore will not speak.

I saw Mariam in an interview on Instagram with anchor Mayssoun Azzam, during the lockdown period. I did not know her before, but as soon as I saw her smile and I understood her story, I got tangled in front of my phone screen, hearing this beautiful woman speak fluently in both Arabic and English with an amazing pronunciation.

I began dreaming of writing these lines because Mariam is a breath of hope in the time of the pandemic… In these difficult times, we are in dire need of a beautiful story, where suffering gracefully transforms into a lesson of humanity and positivity.

I contacted her. She welcomed the idea.

“I am Mariam, of the hearing-impaired, born on August 5, 1988, mother of two girls, Yasmin and Khawla. I graduated from Ahlia University in Bahrain, class of 2010, with a degree of distinction. I have worked in the Financial Supervision Department at the National Bank of Bahrain since 2011,” she wrote to me.

Her parents realized that she was suffering from a problem after they noticed that she did not pronounce a word when she was one and a half years old. She started treatment when she was two years old.

Her family’s reaction was like that of any parents who receive news of this impact, especially since the Arab community points, with many insulting phrases, to people with special needs.

Mariam’s parents refused to call their daughter disabled. They started the journey to search for a solution. Her father made a promise to himself that he would make Mariam speak…

Mariam recounts that the physician, who diagnosed her condition, told her family that he was announcing her death, because of the doctors’ ignorance of the culture of hearing problems at that time.
But her father’s love made him overcome the shock in a very short period, in a mere half-an-hour. It is a true miracle of love, she says.

Thirty years ago, hearing aids were very primitive. In other words, they did not meet the required purpose, especially for those who have severe hearing loss.

“My father began to search for a way or a place where I can learn to talk. He was eager to hear the word, Baba (daddy),” Mariam affirmed.

After a long search throughout the Arab world, her father concluded that in Egypt some centers teach pronunciation. She moved to live in Cairo with her little brother Saleh, accompanied by their mother. Unfortunately, they found out that the institute was of no use.

Mariam’s father did not stop searching and found a distinguished doctor in a private clinic called Dr. Muhammad Baraka, who teaches pronunciation by lip-reading. He had the greatest role in teaching her to speak through this method.

The toddler used to go to the doctor daily for 40 minutes. She spent the rest of the day in the kindergarten and with her mother, who had a very big and decisive role in her development as she devoted her life for this purpose.

After great efforts and perseverance, Mariam pronounced her first word, “Mamma” (mom), at the age of 2.

Maryam has always faced bullying. She trained herself to deal with this abhorrent feeling by surrounding herself with the tenderness of her parents, who instilled in their child a spirit of self-confidence and a positive outlook on life.

All difficulties can be overcome, as love conquers all obstacles, she says.

Mariam started school when she got 6 years-old, like all children of this age. She was the first child of a hearing problem to enroll in this government school. The principal, Professor Bahija Al-Dailami, accepted the challenge, so did her classroom teacher, Fatima Abdel Wahab.

She was not only satisfied with being able to pronounce by reading lips, but wanted to go further with her studies and pursue a brilliant future.

Every day comes with challenges that strengthen her and increase her confidence in her abilities.

“Challenges became a part of my life like air and water. I thank God every day for growing stronger and more confident… and mostly for becoming a source of inspiration for many people around me,” she asserts.

When asked about the most difficult thing about reading lips, Mariam replied: “When the mouth is very small or the lips are thin.”

She recalls that what made her what she is today is her parents’ insistence on dealing with her as if she was a normal child. She described her childhood as extremely happy.

“I did not realize that I am disabled until when I grew up and mingled with the society. My father tried the impossible and challenged the old perceptions to give me the same rights as other children, but sometimes the society is unjust.” Mariam’s remark saddened me.

Today Mariam is the mother of two children, Yasmine, 4, and Khawla, 1.

“I have a wonderful relationship with my daughters. Thanks to the education and care that I got in my childhood, I want them to experience the beauty of childhood and the happiness that I lived.”

The most frequently mentioned word in Mariam’s interview is “Love”. Her father wrote a book called, “My Lovely Daughter… I named her… Mariam,” in which he expresses the feelings, the difficulties, and diaries of Mariam.

Mariam says her mother is “an unknown soldier”.

“No words can describe my mother’s love… she is the candle that burns to illuminate the path for others…”

On her father, she states: “My father, as I always call him, is the oxygen of my life, and sometimes my forbidden love. We are one soul living in two bodies.”

On the future, Mariam’s dream is to be allowed the chance to serve her community in particular, and humanity in general. She shares her experience with the families of people with hearing disabilities, especially in the Prince Sultan bin Abdulaziz Al Saud Center for Hearing and Speech Development of the Bahrain Society for Childhood Development.

“Unfortunately, our Arab societies need a big wake up call over their perception of children with disabilities. They have rights that must be given to them in full. This is one side. The other side is creating a real awareness among the families of people with disabilities. Children need to be loved and to be accepted as they are. All the rest is only details,” Mariam stressed.

She concluded the interview with a beautiful expression: “The community’s support for people with disabilities is a proof of progress and evolution…”

“To those, who are differently-abled I say, trust yourselves... love yourselves... because you are a source of strength and inspiration for your societies.”



Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood
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Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

Family Returns to their Lebanese City to Find a Crater Where their 50-year-old Home Once Stood

In eastern Lebanon's city of Baalbek, the Jawhari family gathered around a gaping crater where their home once stood, tears streaming as they tried to make sense of the destruction.

“It is heart-breaking. A heartache that there is no way we will ever recover from,” said Lina Jawhari, her voice breaking as she hugged relatives who came to support the family. “Our world turned upside down in a second.”

The home, which was a gathering place for generations, was reduced to rubble by an Israeli airstrike on Nov. 1, leaving behind shattered memories and twisted fragments of a once-vibrant life.

The family, like thousands of Lebanese, were returning to check on their properties after the US-mediated ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah went into effect early Wednesday.

Intense Israeli airstrikes over the past two months leveled entire neighborhoods in eastern and southern Lebanon, as well as the southern suburbs of Beirut. Nearly 1.2 million people have been displaced.

The airstrikes have left a massive trail of destruction across the country.

A photo of the Jawhari family's home — taken on a phone by Louay Mustafa, Lina’s nephew — is a visual reminder of what had been. As the family sifted through the rubble, each fragment recovered called them to gather around it.

A worn letter sparked a collective cheer, while a photo of their late father triggered sobs. Reda Jawhari had built the house for his family and was a craftsman who left behind a legacy of metalwork. The sisters cried and hoped to find a piece of the mosque-church structure built by their father. Minutes later, they lifted a mangled piece of metal from the debris. They clung to it, determined to preserve a piece of his legacy.

“Different generations were raised with love... Our life was music, dance, dabke (traditional dance). This is what the house is made up of. And suddenly, they destroyed our world. Our world turned upside down in a second. It is inconceivable. It is inconceivable," Lina said.

Despite their determination, the pain of losing their home and the memories tied to it remains raw.

Rouba Jawhari, one of four sisters, had one regret.

“We are sad that we did not take my mom and dad’s photos with us. If only we took the photos,” she said, clutching an ID card and a bag of photos and letters recovered from the rubble. “It didn’t cross our mind. We thought it’s two weeks and we will be back.”

The airstrike that obliterated the Jawhari home came without warning, striking at 1:30 p.m. on what was otherwise an ordinary Friday.

Their neighbor, Ali Wehbe, also lost his home. He had stepped out for food a few minutes before the missile hit and rushed back to find his brother searching for him under the rubble.

“Every brick holds a memory,” he said, gesturing to what remained of his library. “Under every book you would find a story.”