I am the truth-أنا الحق-Professor of Takfir——Madkhalism💩=Salafism🇸🇦=Hinduism🇮🇳=Zionism🇮🇱=SunniSyrians👹-Never compromise on true Islam,defend it like me
ANOTHER white convert
This time it’s a fking Wahhabi 😂😂
I believe white converts are the result of a confused home full of hate and chaos
This crook has been drinking since he was born and 5 minutes into Islam he’s takfiring Shia hhhhhhhhhههههههههه
They call it a “وديعة”.
A deposit.
That is the word many Lebanese families are now using for the temporary burial of loved ones who cannot be taken home because of the war.
In English, the word sounds cold & administrative. A deposit is something placed somewhere temporarily until it can be reclaimed.
So much bureaucratic connotation in a word for something so intimate.
A deposit.
As though she were luggage.
Or a document.
Or an item being stored.
But in Arabic, وديعة carries another meaning too. It is something entrusted. Something left in safekeeping. Something precious that is being held until it can be returned.
And yet, when we are talking about a mother who has just died, it feels unbearable.
Because no daughter wants to say:
“We are placing my mother as a وديعة.”
It sounds as though death itself has become temporary storage.
As though war has reached so deeply into ordinary life that even burial has been put on hold.
These days, because of the war, many Lebanese families are having to place their loved ones as وديعة.
Not because they want to.
Because they have no choice.
Roads are inaccessible. Villages remain under threat. Entire areas are subject to bombardment & displacement orders. Families can no longer safely reach the towns & villages where generations before them were buried.
Last week, when my mother died, we became one of those families.
Taking Siran back to Nabatiyeh to lay her beside my father, where she always asked to be buried, was simply a mission impossible.
So instead, my brother & I followed the vehicle carrying her coffin to a temporary burial ground.
There was no familiar procession.
No gathering of relatives.
No prayers in the Hussainiya before departure.
No final journey home.
Only a quiet drive.
A Sheikh offered prayers over her body. Strangers gathered around us & prayed alongside us. Then a few men carried her towards a section of the cemetery reserved for what people now simply call the deposits.
A small concrete space had been prepared. Inside it sat a simple wooden coffin-sized box built to the exact dimensions of the concrete cavity, designed to facilitate transfer in the future.
Another prayer was said.
The soil was placed over her.
Around us, women wailed over other graves. A microphone carried prayers for someone else’s dead. Flags fluttered above nearby tombs. The whole scene felt surreal, suspended somewhere between mourning & administration.
Then one of the men looked at us & said:
“Write this down. Memorise this number.”
3/5.
The fifth coffin in the third row.
That is where my mother now lies.
A small stone bearing her name will eventually be placed there so that one day we can find her again & take her home.
Home.
What a simple word.
For centuries families buried their loved ones beside parents, spouses, ancestors & neighbours. It was a final act of belonging.
Today many of us are forced to say:
“Not yet.”
“For now, we leave them here.”
“We will come back for them later.”
War takes many things from people.
Homes.
Safety.
Certainty.
But I never imagined it would take this too.
That even in death, my mother could not be laid to rest beside the man she loved & always called ‘the best of men.’
For now, Siran remains a وديعة.
Entrusted.
Held.
Waiting.
And one day, God willing, when the roads are open, the bombs have stopped, & Nabatiyeh is once again reachable, we will take her to where she always wanted to be.
Beside my father.
Where she belongs.
@YeshuaIsLord03@Jvnior@vult_dues If someone’s aorta is cut, it means he wouldn’t be able to say anything
It’s like when someone has a headaches and says : my head is going to explode
@itsmyhand@FootballHQ@grok You maggot you made one of the biggest rivers in the world totally unusable because you sh1t and p1ss in it and throw dead animals into it
And you crying about a couple minutes of water cannon
Get lost man
@YeshuaIsLord03@Jvnior@vult_dues Not really - learn to read
His aorta wasn’t severed
That would kill instantly
The poisoning was 5 years before that
That quote is a metaphor
“It feels like…” meaning it’s extremely painful
@_1Hamodi Which language would he communicate in?
If he doesn’t speak Arabic/Kurdish
The choice would be English (known to some degree) or his native Indian language (not understood by any Iraqi)
So what is the point of your stupid complaint - Sectarian swine
“Jesus told us to forgive our killers, but this is too much”
Heartbreaking moments from the funeral of Theodosia Karam, her brother Tony and their father James in Qlayaa, southern Lebanon. James was driving his children home from their exams when an Israeli drone killed them