How can I forget the first day that my mother took me to school? And my first teacher who taught me how to hold a pen and write my first letters? How can I forget the first song I sang? The smell of my new books? The thyme sandwiches? My friends? That and much more passed through my mind while I saw my school turn into rubble; its blocks scattered everywhere with nothing left standing but the door. It’s as if he was standing and talking: who tore you apart, my school? Who threw hatred at you to destroy you and destroy my dreams and the dreams of hundreds like me? Who tried to suppress our memories? Who broke our hearts? I wish I can collect your stones, kiss them, looking for my memories in between them. I wish that I can rebuild you so that the door won’t stand on its own, and so that you will become a lighthouse for all future generations.
– Um Adeeb