OUTLOOK — By Wafa Al Shamsiya — As a small child I used to draw paintings and whenever I had to use the white colour I used to change my mind and throw away the white crayon, opting for anther colour. My mother was astonished at my behaviour and kept enquiring repeatedly about my behaviour to get the same answer, “It is no colour, it is useless’.
I grew up and my dreams grew big. My paintings increased in number but I am yet to get reconciled with the white colour. It became obvious that my world of painting accepts all colours but not white, it just has no place among my art.
I sat among the attendees waiting for the celebration to start. I used to contribute to some parts of the programme in such events whenever I was invited to a party.
But my duty this time was to oversee the preparation for a party held in conclusion of the Deaf Week. On the stage were a number of students different in everything but they had only one thing in common, they had all lost the faculty of hearing.
I was looking at them with a mixture of sympathy and happiness. Being someone with hearing impairment may sometimes become a blessing as you become different from the rest of the people and most importantly pure-hearted. The deaf may be deprived from hearing the sounds of nature, the nice chirping of birds in the morning and the lovely sound of the breeze when it passes the leaves of trees.
It is true they cannot enjoy the sweet words said at emotional moments but on the other side they are lucky to be unable to hear words of hypocrisy and deceit that have become commonplace in today’s world. We are in a dire need for silence to purify our souls from the dirt of all evil.
The deaf were standing in a line, communicating with one another through the sign language and smiling happily. Their supervisor alerted them that it was time for them to present their show. They straightened in the line and got themselves ready for the show with their eyes on the supervisor waiting for her signal so as to start their programme.
The Royal Anthem was played. The partially deaf among the students sang along with the Royal Anthem, the others recognised the music and repeated the lyrics in the sign language.
I couldn’t hold back my tears watching what was going on. Then I thought about the able-bodied students whom we see every morning making for schools in their thousands. I wondered if they have the same enthusiasm as they chant the Royal Anthem in the morning procession.
In return of every missing thing God grants us something else. Those who are incapable of speaking or hearing are endowed with pure hearts in compensation. Their souls are as white as sheets; their faces are bright with the glitter of happiness and satisfaction.
