From peasant sons of the northern plains to rebels at the
heart of the Syrian uprising: a family at war
…
Rias,
37, who is known by his siblings and cousins as Sheikh Nayimi, remembers the
moment well. "I told them that the Arab
Spring marked a moment for us," he says. "It was
not yet time to go public, we had to then remain private. But we could sense
that something was coming. Everything we had waited for might soon be upon us.
…
The
Nayimi brothers knew their moment had arrived. "We didn't have to hide any
more," Sheikh Nayimi says. Within days, he had been joined by his siblings
and their elderly father, all of whom had left jobs in Aleppo
or in their home village
of Sarmada Syria 's future
has been honed ever since.
Brothers of brothers shared same
veins blood of fertile soil, deeply rooting mystery of fertility of heroes’ parable. The indomitable spring, she
is coming with warriors duality laurels, deep sounds from abyss , steam of origin, cracks frost,
her divine faces to the sun, long deep lungful
air into her mouth, then frosty icy maiden
open her eyes to the sky and her
breasts for sunbeam, greeting her season! O what a dreamless cold sleep was! she
says. She called scent of spring wind, “ come you meanness wind, it is time for
my dances, I want green shoes with tingled bird song, hangs on every trees, melt frozen people's hearts and make
everyone love and happy, so wind kowtows and brings her
green ravine shoes made from
spring air, crack branches, bells tingles on rivers clears tainted memories, people
will come to me, boisterous children
play with me! She is sure of it,
everyone loves maiden warm air, her breath is sweet jasmine scented, it is
called lovers symbols, she will walk down weathered wreckage strewn streets villages towns
cities and people faces, at long Roman’s stony faces, waterfalls, stone pavesments,
wild blossoming are embroiders her fair maiden bridal gowns, the rich golden dowry
wheels wheels of main podia that is how the love maiden come to the heroes’ love
nest
