"What are you doing?"
"Drawing."
"What?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because everybody else draws No."
"In the street?"
"Yeah."
"Are you allowed?"
"I didn't ask."
"You want to draw too?"
"Yeah."
Kids always ask the right questions.
After a full afternoon of being frustrated with our lives in the place between boredom and restlessness in which we currently reside, my friends and I decided on an activity. We only had one car, three friends, and a provisional license. That means, very limited mobility. So, with our day off, and a religious day (the end of Ramadan) for two out of the three of us, we knew that this day had to be fun. So there was also this pressure: have a fun day.
Now because of our three-person provisional-license impediment, with our decision to go to Sarah's house, I had taxi the two of them from one house to the other individually. When dropping off Sarah at her house, the two of us got to brain storming. At this point in the day, after the hustle and bustle of the family breakfast (the first one anyone has had in a month), we have about 3 or 4 hours until the families recollect at night to celebrate in a more formal setting. We have only a few hours left to celebrate this in our casual clothing, for real fun. That nervousness of time passing was very evident as the two of us compulsively adjusted the air conditioning and radio to avoid that fact. We need to do something fun, and the frustration of the word "NO" from our parents is weighing down on us. Then the idea came to me.
"Hey Sarah.." She looked up, her eyes hoping I had an idea for what we could do today. "Why don't I buy some chalk on my way to pick up Aleen, and we could just draw on the pavement all day." She smiled. We both knew this would be a good way to mend the hurt all the parental "no you can't"'s inflicted.
"That'd be great."
When I picked up Aleen, bought the chalk, a bubble machine that turned out to not work (Sarah thought bubbles would make the pictures we took look cooler) , the three of us found ourselves doodling on the sidewalk, wondering. I had it in my head that I really wanted to make a collaborative project, all of our energy put into one---I love collaborative art. A collaborative piece would work because of the time constraint and the common frustration.
"Hey guys..." they both looked up. That was my prelude to having an idea. When we were younger and playing together, that would always be the motto I would say before making up a new game or creating a new world we could pretend in. Since childhood, "hey guys" was the introduction into something really cool.
Now I won't tell you about what we made, I will only show you. This was less about the technical beauty (keep in mind we had only about an hour before dusk took over, and were limited to the colors crayola deemed necessary), than it was about the real emotional value to what we expressed. The hour we spent creating this was a really amazing time. The three of us (actually five, when Sarah's brothers joined in) were arduously creating an expression of the suffocation youngsters can feel under the protective eyes of their parents--even if those parents, in most cases, have the best of intentions in mind.
"Wouldn't it suck if it rained?" Rammy asked, standing back looking at the artwork he helped create.
"No. Not really. Actually that would be great" I replied. He looked at me with that same look of, wow you see everything different that he was so used to giving to me.
"Ugh. Another Car." Aleen said
Every time a car past, it took a wind-full of chalk dust with it. Every person who gave us a weird look, unintentionally took part of our message with them. They may have thought "what are they doing" or even judged us, but there was still a part of what we were saying that got to everyone who saw it.
What I think was most meaningful was what Sherief, Sarah's 5 year old brother learned about conformity, and about rules. I like to think that what he learned was that rules are created for people not the other way around. A person doesn't have to do "normal" activities and sometimes a push out of the box is a healthy need. I like to think that some of my views about art and life leaked into his psyche, during this project and during my friendship with him since he was born. Or maybe all he learned was simply that I'm a little wacky (more like reinstated). But I like to think the former is what he really absorbed.
After our long day of work, and a short reflection session (I get a weird feeling when I don't write something down as soon as it enters my brain) , I could feel my body getting heavier on the bed below it.
"You're wearing that? Why not that new blue shirt?"
"No no I don't like that blue shirt, it makes my stomach look weird"
"What about the yellow one?"
"Maybe...oh speaking of that..."
"Meriam you're up."
I could hear the pre-party what-should-I-wear-conversation between Aleen and Sarah melting into my consciousness as I woke up. After my nap, the mural was gone, and all the guests were arriving at Sarah's house.
The rain had washed away everything. It was our experience, and it was something only to be shared with us, and the cars that passed, the sunlight, and us during that very limited time when the work existed. It made our work feel like a shooting star, only available for a brief moment for those who are willing to slow down and be mesmerized.
Out of a restless Tuesday we created a memory none of us will ever forget. But isn't that what a memory needs to grow? A restless Tuesday?
When I drove home later that night, I could still see a few faint no's and an even fainter yes. I drove over the words "yes, no, no, no." I didn't like how that felt. That was no way to leave it. I reversed the car and drove in the other direction home.
"no.."
"no..."
"no..."
"yes."
