There he is. Another victim of what I call, “Majnoun Layla” syndrome. Inspired by the tragic love story of a 7th century Bedouin poet who fell in love with Layla then went majnoun (mad) when he was not permitted to marry her.
You can sometimes spot these victims agonising over the words of love for the lady in their life, feeling they have to live up to the image of the passionate Arab man in love. But ask him to just say “I love you” to his mother, his sister or, worse, his father, and watch him shrink back in discomfort and fear. All of a sudden, he is lost for words.
Consider also what will happen to this poet once he marries the subject of his affection. Once he would spend hours composing poetry, but after marriage most women will rarely receive such gestures of love. That is because she is now the “wife” and that brings a new set of rules.
There are, of course, men who continue to romance their wives – they should advise their male friends to do so too. Who doesn’t want to feel loved?
What reminded me of this process is a video making the rounds on social media. It had young Arab adults calling their mothers and saying “I love you”. The reactions were hilarious.
Some mothers paused and were worried something was wrong, and asked “What it is? What did you do?” Others just laughed and didn’t know what to say, and then asked is it mother’s day?
It reflects how rare it is for these mothers to hear this declaration from their children. One mother started crying and replied with a choked voice: “I love you too.”
With all this talk about how passionate Middle Eastern people are, it is funny that these passions are often not passed onto those in the immediate family.
There was a WhatsApp image that was also making the rounds in which sisters told their brothers they love them and the brothers reacted with “Ayb!” (Shame!), with some showing great disgust. A third group demanded to know: “How much money do you want this time?”
Joking aside, these two social media examples are quite telling of what happens privately in many Arab homes.
Consider the way fathers are treated. I always feel sorry for fathers because they rarely or never get outward expressions of love and gratitude; indeed many tend to keep a distance from their children. Newer generations of Arab fathers are different, where I see them hug and kiss their children, and even say: “I love you.”
There is that infamous “pat” on the shoulder most of us get from the elderly figures in our homes. Their way of showing they care is buying things for their children and other family members.
The males are the providers and often get treated like an ATM. Many have accepted this role and expect in return successful and well-raised children who make them proud on a social level.
Recently at Dubai airport, I saw an Emirati family, and one of the sons was hugging his father.
“I love you, father,” the boy said in Arabic. The father looked surprised, smiled shyly and tears formed in his eyes. As is typical with Arab fathers, he told off his son for being silly and did the whole hand waving gesture of “Yalla yalla” to send him away.
As the son walked through to passport control, I watched the father. I could tell he was smiling from his heart. The rest of the family left and were calling out to him, but he just stood there a bit longer, cherishing the moment.
I bet you he will never forget it.
So why wait until tomorrow? Call your parent or sibling or whoever you always call who you might have been taking for granted. Just tell them: “I love you.”
Sure they may know you care, but nothing is more heart warming than to actually hear it. Or better yet, compose a poem that they can cherish forever.
rghazal@thenational.ae
On Twitter:@Arabianmau