The people of my homeland would often differentiate between the smarts of the school and the smarts of the streets. The mindtricks and the manual tricks, if you will. I was blessed with a godgiven facility for both.
From my beloved mother I inherited a love of scholarly knowledge that shaped me into the genius I am today. My mother was brilliant, caring, and, above all, she was sheltered, as all good women are. Because my father, as all good men do, provided for her a shelter. From him I inherited woodmaking skills and an overwhelming sense of courage that could withstand a sandstorm.
Despite my comfortable upbringing, I was never taken out of my hometown of Al-Badriya for a vacation. Instead, it seems my parents wanted me to explore and witness the world only as it presented itself in front of us. From an early age, I was allowed to play in the alleys surrounding our lofty home. It was there I got exposed to different kinds of people. Once I had completed my daily lectures and assignments, I would wander the backstreets with the brutes of the block. From them I learned the most sacred value that was absent from my home: violence. Blood is most important in this life, and it comes in two forms. The blood you share with your kinsfolk, and the blood you are willing and able to shed for them. Without family, a man is nothing. And without the ability to protect them, he might as well be dust.
From the neighborhood rough boys I learned the art of defending me and mine. The nights I spent with these thugs will forever be anchored in my memory as a time of enlightenment. Not of the erudite kind, the only one my mother knows, but rather, it was the time I became a hellraiser. I now know a lot of things about myself and about the world. I know Al-Badriya's twisty streets like a camel knows its way around the desert.
I know there is power in listening. If you don't intrude on your interlocutor's speech and instead let him babble on, he will reveal things to you that you can later use to snare him in a web on your own making. Patience is the key that makes a man turn into a useless fool, a useful tool.
Upon being made aware of my departure, my beloved mother cried profusely, after which she knitted me a wool coat. She said I would need it for my trip northward.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
Many Moons Ago
Genç KurguEnchanted by the daughter of his new mentor, a young man will do whatever it takes (mostly lie and cheat) to get his way. New friends, old foes and a whole lot of problems lie ahead between the quietness of the desert and the overflowing city. 💕😈�...
