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By Reda Abdulrahman

Long before us, they were born. Three women, stained with the different colors of different races, vibrant and beautiful and young, full of promises and potential. Three women on different faces of the world, separated by oceans and cultures and perspectives, each feeling the sun warm her face at different hours of the day.

As was their destiny: when they grew, they married with the earth, and from their loins sprang nations-full of people. The children were so many, that often they fought amongst themselves, and these same children were confused as to which mother they belonged, since there were so very many of them. They were born at different times and under different climate conditions; some of them were white as snow and others were black as night, but few of them could understand that they had the same mother.

Time passed, and some of these children left. They conquered other children, or founded their own families. Many of the children stayed, deciding to support their mother. Some of them were kind, providing her with food when she was weak, braiding her hair lovingly when she was tired, healing her wounds when she cut herself. Others were not as kind; they were willing to take the last shawl from off her back, or pulled at her hair, or kicked her to the ground, not even knowing themselves what it was they truly wanted.

The mothers suffered much, experienced much, rejoiced much. Their children when on to have children, and those children had children in turn. A world of differences and similarities that continues revolving today. There have been more mothers, many mothers. Some of the mothers have died; some have been resurrected. Others have yet to be born.

Such is the circle of life, and such are the revolutions of the world upon its axis.

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