One of the most beautiful and profound stories told by Jurji Zaidan, a historian of Arab civilization and the founder of “Al-Hilal” magazine, takes place during his youth when he used to work at his father’s restaurant in Beirut. At the time, he became friends with of group young “tough men” who showed off their strong muscles, were foul-mouthed, and carried knives, as they narrated fist-fighting stories. Most of them drank alcohol and their best was unemployed. On holidays, they used to go out in a group of almost 20 men to have fun around the city, which at that time, was still a charming green space of olive fields and farms.
During one of these trips, our friend met Khalil, a guy who was new to the group. Instead of bragging about knife skills, Khalil recited poetry written by Al-Mutanabbi and Ibn al-Farid. Zaidan was fascinated by the poetry without fully understanding what he heard. On the next trip, he asked Khalil to explain the verses he read. Later, the two friends abandoned the gangs and Jurji decided that he would take the path to the world of Al-Mutanabbi. This is where his journey to the world of acquiring knowledge kicked off. He left behind the "quarter bullies and dagger holders" and traveled to Egypt, only to return later as one of the most prominent Arab publishers and historians.
By sheer coincidence, I stumbled across “Eshrat Sibay" (Companions of My Youth) which is one of the best novels written by Jurji. When I was young, I also got the chance to see parts of Beirut’s green fields and gardens, and God saved me from the company of gangsters. Back then, adolescence was a practice of bragging about bohemianism, marked by parting bright hair and total indolence.
Thankfully, this foolish period did not last long. I do not remember if there was a certain “Khalil” who also held my hand and saved me from getting lost. But I found my way, and here, I’d recall one of man’s wise proverbs which says “Tell me who your friends are, and I'll tell who you are.” Just as in Jurji’s novel, I used to rent a motorcycle and take the roads in a such rush as though the whole world was applauding me. Everytime I recall these days, I tell my startled self: "How did I even make it alive!?"
