I just wanted to thank you...
I love you.
I love you.
Thank You
When thinking about someone who has influenced you, you might not find the answer easily. However, this is not my case: I know very well that she is one of the few people that had and still have an impact on me. I don’t see her often. She’s living there, far from here. She comes from the land of Santa Claus, Finland. She is “mummo”, Cecilia Jourjio.
This is no famous name. It’s my grandmother’s. “Mummo” is what I call her and it means “grandma” in Finnish. Anyway, mummo is not like every grandmother. Well, I believe that. You don’t have to. The 77-year-old blond matriarch with these perfect blue eyes and that angelic smile is always on my mind. Her words are always there for me, pushing me forward. I remember the day she told me, “You will become a minister”. This has never bothered me. The way she says it is just adorable. She’s not forcing me to become this or that; she says it with admiration. What is funny about it is that she once came and told me, “Karim, you shouldn’t become a minister. They’re killing the Lebanese ministers! Being one is no credit. You’ll be a Nobel laureate!”
Born in 1933 in Helsinki, mummo is not like her peers. Actually, most grandmothers are almost illiterate. Mummo is not: she speaks five languages and that is impressive. Finnish, Swedish, English, German and Arabic. Isn’t that amazing for a girl who grew up in World War II and whose father was at the frontiers, fighting against Stalin’s huge army? In addition, mummo is always encouraging me, making me look forward to improving everything I do. When she knew I published my first article in a newspaper, she was very pleased. “Karim, I’m very proud of you. Keep going!” I took what she told me into consideration and published two more articles, and at every time I did, she submerged me into her tender yet motivating encouragements.
Nevertheless, some of her behaviours bother me. For example, before going to bed, she tells me to go and check out if the refrigerator’s door is closed. Whether my answer is a yes or a no, she has to go and check that out by herself at least 10 times, just to make sure. “Enough! The door is not open!” I say. But every time I think about that, I laugh. I like everything about her, even what bothers me!
What I admire about her is the fact that she cannot lie. I still hear her voice telling me, “Why would you ever lie? Don’t, and you’ll never have to remember what you said the last time.”
Her words have been a cure for my emerging arrogance. I thought I was so excellent in writing in Arabic that I couldn’t make mistakes. At times, I would be getting mad at the teacher for finding mistakes in my writing, thinking I’m right. Mummo proved me wrong, maybe without meaning it. “We always have something to learn”.
Finally, I’d like to thank you, grandmother, for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you grandma. Thank you for being there for me, for helping deal with my problems and for encouraging me. Let me say it at last in your language: “Kiitos!”.
