My best friend Abdulaziz Ali Omer

Recently , my late friend Siham called , I answered with some trepidation :Siham ! Siham! .It was her mother calling on her phone to thank me for something. I try to to forget Siham, again I try to forget this lovely and sad name. Much water passed under the bridge. Our flower-boy became Newspaper-boy. In one indolent morning, he shouted “It is impossible to forget”. I know what he means. How did he know our story? Well, It was a tongue slip.
One day, Sitt Samia , our strict teaher but kindly suddenly resorted to “What do you want to be? Siham, the provinicial shy girl for the first time, her hand went up. “Doctor’ she replied happily. She didn’t know what lay in store for her. Sadly, two days latter, she died of cancer after she gave me an orange tree to grow in my house.
I did one thing that surprise many of those who described me as colder than an icy storm. I Kissed the hand which offered me a gift of love and afarwell. During her ordeal, she never lost her irrepressible humour in the face of sorrow , pain and despair. She was nice as well as intelligent. She was also simple and lovable human being as her other friends attested.
She didn’t hurt the feeling of any one . For instance, she can say with an irony like Collin McGinn, the weather is auful meaning that there is some body boring. One day , she bought a collection of pens to give away as free as autumn leaves to fellow classmates to write with no to war . Today, in her anniversary, I buy some pens to give to the same hands. I feel glad and proud. I feel I belong to this country soul and character . In my visit to her shrine, after some prayers , I whsiper “ Oh Siham! Was it thus for you?
I try to forget but again there is what reminds me . It is a voice that emerge from among my old papers and in the crowd to say : Life is sweet. Life is a good memory.You should keep it.

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