Culture
The first time I saw Apo Tudo, The Ilocano rain deity, I swear, he sent mist to that mountain Outside of Baguio Kissing the Filipino soil with sweet promises and tearful memories My grandmother share... Read more
Every Refugee is a Poem
(1) كلُّ لاجئٍ قصيدةٌ. (2) أنا القصيدةُ: كان كاتبي على عجلٍ، فلم يضع ليَ عنواناً. تركني على مكتبِه ثم غادرَ. ... Read more
Grieving a Stranger
My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s hellish dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of th... Read more
In Search of Identity
البحث عن هوية لا وطن لي أُنتزعت منّي الهوّية وهمت في رحاب الأرض بلا مرجعيّة فهلاّ آويتني؟ هلاّ كنت لي أرضاً أز... Read more
Time Moves Both Ways
Last summer, my wife and I rode our bikes together along the Cambridge to Paris rail trail—an eighteen kilometer venture alongside an out-of-use train track. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fitness q... Read more
Grieving a Stranger (Digital Storytelling Workshop)
My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of their consequences... Read more