55 minute read
Aamna and the Magic Henna
By Aamna Hamad Salem Obaid Saif Alsuwaidi
Tomorrow was the first day of Eid Al-Fetr. Aamna needed to get ready for this happy occasion she’d waited so long for. ‘Let’s see . . . clothes . . . shoes . . . OH MY GOODNESS! I forgot to put henna on my hands,’ muttered Aamna. She
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rushed to ask her mother for help.
‘Don’t worry, dear, we still have plenty of time,’ said Aamna’s mother reassuringly.
Aamna’s mother started calling henna shops, but it was no use. They were all too busy to take a new booking because it was the day before Eid and the streets were crowded
with people. Aamna was very sad. She always decorated her hands with henna for Eid. She cried alone for a while, then hurried to find her friend Jammool and tell him what was bothering her. Jammool was the loyal camel who lived in her father’s stable. Aamna noticed a scrap of paper glinting in the daylight. It was lying in the sand on their farm. She went to pick it up. ‘Um Ahmed’s Henna Designs’ was written on it. Aamna almost jumped for joy when she found the card, because this was a shop her mother hadn’t already called. She asked her friend Jammool to go with her to search for the shop in the middle of the desert.
Aamna carefully climbed onto Jammool’s back and they went to look for the address on the card she’d found. Half an hour later, a colourful tent appeared in the distance. There was thick fog everywhere and Aamna had to try hard to read the sign attached to the middle of the tent. ‘We made it, Jammool!’ she shrieked when
she managed to read it. ‘I’m so happy! Wait outside for me, please, until I finish putting my henna on.’
Aamna went into the tent. Um Ahmed, who was standing in the centre, called out to her, ‘Don’t be afraid, dear, come sit by me.’ Aamna sat by the old woman, waiting to see what would happen next. Um Ahmed started drawing beautiful henna patterns on Aamna’s hands.
When she finished, Aamna thanked her, ‘What wonderful designs these are!’
‘My dear little girl, this is magic henna!’ said Um Ahmed. ‘You must figure out its secret yourself. The magic wears off when the henna completely fades away from your hands.’
‘Hurry up, Aamna, we need to get home soon!’
Jammool uttered these words, taking Aamna by surprise.
‘WHAT???!!’ she said. ‘Can you talk, Jammool?’
‘Yes, thanks to the magic henna,’ said Jammool confidently, with a happy smile. As they were talking to each other on their way back, Aamna and Jammool saw another camel crying in pain at the side of the road. ‘That’s my friend Hassoon. He’s been complaining of a pain in his stomach for a long time now. That’s how it is with many of our camel friends,’ said Jammool glumly.
‘Poor camel, I wish I knew why he was in pain so I could help him,’ said Aamna sadly. The two friends continued their journey, then Jammool suddenly stopped, reached down with his head and opened his mouth to eat a plastic bag that had been left lying in the sand. ‘Stop, Jammool! You can’t eat THAT; it’s not fit to eat!’
‘But it’s just a little snack before supper,’ said Jammool innocently.
‘No wonder Hassoon had a stomach-ache. He must have eaten a plastic bag too,’ added Aamna.
‘Is it really bad for me?’ asked Jammool in surprise.
The next morning, Aamna celebrated the first day of Eid Al-Fetr with her family and her friend Jammool. She ate all the delicious food her mother made. In the evening, her friends Aliaa and Fatima came to visit and they just loved Um Ahmed’s beautiful henna patterns.
Later, Aamna decided to tell her friends why she was so worried and how hard she’d been trying to find a good way to solve the problem. ‘When I was with my friend Jammool, I saw a lot of camels looking pale and tired,’ she said,
her voice sounding sad. ‘Something strange and unnatural is going on with camels and it’s happening to more and more of them. They’re eating rubbish and plastic bags left behind in the desert.’
‘I’ve read about this: fifty percent of camels in the United Arab Emirates die because they’ve eaten rubbish bags,’ replied Aliaa.
‘So, what do you say we team up to clean the
desert and get rid of this dangerous rubbish?’
said Aamna determinedly.
The next day the three friends worked together on cleaning up the desert. They put up signs to remind people to take care of the environment and throw litter in the proper places. And we mustn’t forget our friend Jammool, who also helped Aamna and her friends with their campaign.
Gradually, the henna started to fade from Aamna’s hands and — just as Um Ahmed had said — its magic effects began to disappear as well.
‘Now the henna’s all gone,’ said Aamna, ‘It didn’t last long, Jammool, but we’ll still always be friends. And maybe I’ll go and see Um Ahmed again for Eid Al-Adha.’
Guardians of the Seas
By Nour Ahmed Alkhatib
Once upon a time, a beautiful baby girl was born in a small city. Her parents were delighted with their new daughter. They named her Lulwa, which means pearl, because her eyes were as lovely as pearls. Lulwa’s mother was extremely goodlooking. She was a flight attendant and Lulwa missed her terribly when she was away for work. Lulwa grew to be three years old and she still missed her always-travelling mother and needed her very much. Lulwa’s mother had no choice but to leave her job to look after her daughter and they had to make do with the money Lulwa’s father sent them every month. Time passed and soon Lulwa was four.
‘Mummy, I’m bored of staying at home all the time. I want to go to school and play with the other children,’ said Lulwa.
A week later, Lulwa started school and made a new friend on her first day. Lulwa called her friend Mimi, but her real name was Maryam. The next day, Mimi and Lulwa made a plan: Mimi would beg her mother to take her to Lulwa’s house and Lulwa would tell her mother she wanted to invite Mimi to visit them at their small home. Each of the girls got her mother to agree.
One day later, Mimi went to Lulwa’s house after school. She noticed Lulwa’s father wasn’t there.
‘Where’s your father?’ Mimi asked.
‘He’s away and I haven’t seen him for a long time,’ said Lulwa, looking sad. ‘But never mind about that now.’
The girls began to play and have fun. They had the best time! Dinner was ready at five o’clock. They sat at the dining table, which was brown and had four chairs. The food was simple, but delicious. After they ate, the girls did their homework and read stories. Then, at half past six, Mimi went home.
A few days later, a school trip to the beach was announced. As soon as Lulwa heard about it, she went happily to tell Mimi.
‘Have you heard the news? We’re going to the beach!’ she said.
‘Yes! That’s the best news I’ve heard in my whole life!’ said Mimi.
Lulwa and Mimi told their mothers about the trip and they agreed the girls could go. They were so excited they could hardly wait. When the big day finally arrived, they packed their things, climbed on to the bus and sat together, planning what to do when they got there. They decided to start with a search for sea creatures and special seashells. The journey to the beach was fun: they spent all their time on the bus singing and talking. As soon as they arrived, they set off to look for creatures and seashells. A gentle breeze ruffled Lulwa’s golden hair and the sea sparkled under the bright rays of the sun. How perfectly happy they were! They played for a long time, then decided to have a rest and sit by the shore. Lulwa and Mimi noticed some empty juice cartons and plastic boxes lying on the beach, so they collected
the litter and threw it away.
Suddenly, they heard the words, ‘THANK YOU!’
Puzzled, each of them thought the other one had spoken, and asked her about it.
‘It wasn’t me who said that!’ was the answer in both cases. The only creature in sight was a little turtle. Could it have been the turtle who thanked them? They were astonished to discover the words really did come from the turtle because — as far as they knew — turtles didn’t talk. Lulwa rubbed her eyes to make sure she was seeing straight.
‘Are you the one who thanked us?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Yes,’ said the turtle.
‘But why?’ asked Lulwa, with a look of amazement.
‘Because you cleared the rubbish off the beach,’ said the turtle. ‘Follow me, you two,’ she added, as she headed into the sea.
‘Follow you? But how will we breathe underwater?’ said Mimi.
‘You’ll see,’ said the turtle. Filled with wonder, they eagerly followed her through a tunnel that led into the depths of the sea. All of a sudden, they sprouted fins and gills and turned into two fishes!
‘Awesome!’ said Mimi, ‘So this is how we get to breathe under water.’
‘That’s right, Mimi,’ said the turtle. ‘Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Sulafa and I’m a green sulahfaah — a green turtle. I noticed you care about things being clean and tidy, so I invited you here to show you how much waste humans throw into the sea. They treat the sea like it’s a rubbish dump.’
Lulwa and Mimi were stunned to discover they could breathe under water, but they were even more shocked to find the sea they were swimming in wasn’t at all as clear and clean as it looked from the outside. It was full of litter! A short time later, Murjana the mermaid joined them. She had a shiny green tail and curly red hair.
‘My friend Sulafa brought you here so you can go through this doorway — the Time Doorway — and find out what the sea looked like thousands of years ago,’ said Murjana.
‘Awesome! Let’s go!’ said Lulwa and Mimi at the same time.
Murjana led them to the Time Doorway. It was blue and gave out a dazzling golden glow, making Mimi and Lulwa even more excited to travel back through time. When they opened the Doorway and went inside, it started spinning incredibly fast. Suddenly, it stopped moving and everything went quiet. The jolt from stopping made them feel as if they were being woken from a dream. Now the sea looked like clear, turquoise glass; it was full of pretty, colourful little fish darting playfully around the corals. This was more beautiful than
any sea they’d ever seen before.
They swam for a while, exploring the area around them, then Mimi caught sight of a huge, sharp-toothed shark heading in their direction.
‘Oh my God! There’s a shark coming!’
she said to Lulwa, in a panic.
They were terrified and tried to think of a way out of this disaster. They had to find a plan to escape without being seen by the shark.
‘I know!’ Lulwa announced, ‘Do you remember when we learned in science that sharks have poor eyesight?’
‘Yes,’ said Mimi.
‘Well, we need to head towards the Doorway, but we’ve got to go slow, so the shark doesn’t see us or sense we’re here. We mustn’t swim fast so we don’t attract its attention.’
‘Yes, good idea!’ said Mimi. The girls began moving very slowly until they reached the Doorway. They took one last look at the fascinating turquoise sea and returned, through the Doorway, to the sea in today’s world.
‘We’ve decided to help you and your friends clean up the sea,’ said Lulwa to Sulafa.
The turtle thanked her and they got started on clearing away the litter. When they’d finished, Sulafa said, ‘Do you two know what you’ve just done?’
‘What?’ asked Lulwa.
‘You saved my life. And my turtle friends’ lives as well.’
‘But HOW?’ asked Mimi.
‘Turtles think plastic — and other types of human waste — is food and they suffocate when they eat it. You saved us from suffocating,’ said the turtle.
‘That’s wonderful!’ Lulwa said, feeling quite impressed.
A little later, Mimi cried out, ‘It’s getting late. We should go back to the beach before someone notices we’re missing.’
Mimi and Lulwa thanked Sulafa for the exciting adventure and she said goodbye to them, adding, ‘Actually, I should be thanking you.’
But the adventure wasn’t over YET. While they were swimming to shore, a plastic bag got tangled in Lulwa’s fin. It was such a scary moment for her. Luckily Sulafa and Murjana saw what happened and quickly came to help. They tried to get the bag off Lulwa and, after a long struggle, finally managed to get rid of it. Lulwa and Mimi said goodbye to their friends again and went back through the tunnel to the beach. Mimi looked at the sea in awe and said, ‘I can hardly believe everything that’s just happened! We’ve got to make a stand about what these poor creatures are going through because of us humans.’ ‘We have to spread the word that it’s crucial to protect the sea,’ said Lulwa enthusiastically. A brilliant thought flashed into her head, ‘Why don’t we start a club at school to help students understand why it’s dangerous to throw litter in the sea?’
Mimi jumped up and said, ‘What an amazing idea! What do you think of the name, Lulwa and Mimi: Guardians of the Seas?
‘That’s an awesome name!’ said Lulwa with a
wide grin.
Lulwa and Mimi didn’t waste any time. They told their science teacher about their idea, and she loved it and helped them make it happen. The club organised regular beach clean-ups and club members made signs to put up about the importance of preserving the sea environment. At the end of the school year, Lulwa and Mimi looked back at everything they’d achieved with pride. The beach was beautiful again. On one of their clean-up trips, they caught a fleeting glimpse of a green turtle between the waves. It looked at them and smiled and then disappeared into the faraway horizon.
The End.
The Bracelet of Hope
By Ward Wissam Al Halabi
BOOM . . . BANG . . . CRASH . . . The smell of fear. BAM! Oof! HELP ME! Oh my God!
This is what Aql and Amal heard all the time.
Aql and Amal were twins who shared everything equally between them. They were intelligent and hardworking.
Aql’s inventions could be found in every corner of their house and in the homes of their neighbours and relatives. Anyone facing a conundrum would ask Aql to come to the rescue. But if someone was sad or ill, they came to Amal for comfort and she gave them patience, optimism and the strength to carry on.
The twins were known for their strange — and maybe magical — gadgets. They lived in a country where war had replaced peace.
1: At Night
It was eight o’clock in the evening.
‘It’s time to go to the secret laboratory,’ said Aql.
‘I’ll keep a lookout,’ said Amal.
The secret lab was in a mountain cave opposite their house. Only Aql and Amal knew about it. While Aql was working, a bomb fell on his lab and completely destroyed it. Terrified, Amal ran towards him, screaming, ‘Aql, are you hurt?’
She heard a faint voice calling, ‘Amal! I’m down here.’
‘What have you done to yourself? How did you end up like this?’ said Amal.
‘I drank the shrinking potion I invented so I could get out of the cave. And now, I’ll go back to normal by drinking the same potion again. But unfortunately, I’ve lost my lab.’
‘Don’t be sad. We’ll find somewhere else.’
They hurried home. 2: In the Morning
It was the start of a new day. Amal and Aql came downstairs feeling optimistic.
‘Shall we take the bus today? Or walk?’ Amal asked.
‘We’ll walk as usual,’ said Aql, laughing. ‘The bus won’t come anyway because of the fuel shortage. We’ll feel warmer when we’re moving. Let’s run, so we can beat the bullets.’
On their way to school, Amal blurted out a question, sounding surprised, ‘Aql, have you noticed the trees have disappeared from the sides of the road?’
‘Yes, unfortunately. People have been using wood from the trees for fuel. They need it to cook with or to keep warm. That’s why they chop down the trees.’
This made them both very sad.
They arrived at school, only to find it was closed. A sign on the gate said: ‘School is closed until further notice. We apologise to our young students.’
Aql was furious. ‘HOW LONG ARE THINGS GOING TO GO ON LIKE THIS?’ he asked Amal.
‘I’m sure you’ll be the one to find a solution,’ said Amal.
3: In the Evening
That evening, their father came home looking happy.
‘You look like you have good news to share,’ said their mother.
‘I’ve got a new job in the United Arab Emirates and we’ll be moving there next week.’
The children’s faces lit up with joy.
‘It’s time for our adventure to start. I must find the solution over there,’ said Aql.
For the first time in ages, they fell asleep peacefully.
4: Saying Goodbye to Friends
The next day, Aql and Amal said goodbye to their friends.
‘Promise me, friends, you’ll plant a tree every day,’ said Aql, ‘and I promise to find a solution to all our problems.’
‘Look at this bracelet Aql invented,’ said Amal, ‘I’ll wear it around my wrist. Every time you plant a tree, it’ll light up and generate energy for Aql to use in his inventions.’
Their friends promised Amal and Aql they’d continue to plant trees regularly.
5: Arriving in the United Arab Emirates
Within a week, the family arrived in the United Arab Emirates. They received a warm welcome from the airport employees, who greeted them with lovely words. The best greeting was, ‘Welcome to your second home.’ It delighted them and chased away their fears.
Their eyes darted continuously left and right, taking in all the signs of development and progress that showed the nation’s support and respect for human rights.
That night, Amal and Aql couldn’t sleep — not because of the freezing cold or from fear of blazing war — but because they were looking forward to their first day at school. They wondered what their new school was like. Would they make friends? Would they find a solution to their problems?
6: First Day at School
Their first day at school was no different from the
day they arrived in the United Arab Emirates. They were met with the same greeting, ‘Welcome to your second home’, and felt the same amazement.
A teacher took them on a new students’ tour round the school premises. They visited classes, sports courts, the library, the art room, the clinic, the canteen and — most importantly — the laboratory.
After that, they went to class and the teacher introduced them to the others. She said a few words about them, mentioning especially how polite and clever they were.
The students welcomed them: ‘Ahlan wa Sahlan!’, ‘Bienvenue!’, ‘Herzlich Willkommen!’, ‘Huanying!’, ‘Bienvenido!’
They heard it in every language of the world.
7: The Strange Bracelet
The students noticed Amal’s bracelet glowing from time to time. They wanted to know its secret.
‘Amal, what’s that thing you’re wearing on your wrist?’ whispered Sarah.
‘It’s a bracelet,’ said Amal.
Sarah and their other friends grew even more curious.
Another girl said, ‘What’s up with this bracelet? I want to know too.’
Amal explained who had made the bracelet and why she was wearing it. The friends felt sad about the children in Amal’s country. They decided to launch a campaign on Earth Day, to encourage students to plant trees. Thanks to them, the bracelet glowed brighter and brighter and Aql was able to gather enough energy to start working on his inventions.
8: Inspiration
After getting permission from school to spend the time he needed to on his experiments, Aql worked hard in the lab every day. But unfortunately, all his experiments failed. One time he’d emerge from the lab with his hair all messed up, another time with a face that’d turned green. On some occasions he made it out before the smoke appeared, on others the smoke would be seen before him. But in spite of all this, when his friends rushed to check on him in a panic, he’d smile and say, ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’
One day, Amal felt the bracelet’s glow was getting weaker. She sent a message to her friends at home and they replied, ‘Things are worse. It’s getting darker. Will you have a solution soon?’
When Aql heard those words, he almost gave up.
‘Is it too late?’ he asked his sister.
‘NO!’ said Amal, ‘Look around you, everyone’s supporting us here and we all trust you. You’re nearly there.’
They went back to class.
‘Our lesson today is about Masdar City in
Abu Dhabi,’ said the teacher. ‘It’s the first city to be powered by clean energy. It’s a sustainable residential community and is zero-carbon and zero-waste. It depends on solar power, which means it uses the sun’s rays to generate electricity. Masdar City is part of the One Planet Living programme.’
Aql’s face lit up with signs of optimism again. Learning about Masdar City had inspired him with an idea for the solution.
‘Why aren’t all cities sustainable?’ he asked.
‘That’s what we aim for in our country,’ said the teacher, ‘but it isn’t easy to find energy that’s friendly to the environment, but also available in enough quantities like the energy we get from oil-based fuels.’
‘I promise you to find a solution. We deserve to live in happy cities,’ said Aql.
9: Keeping the Promise
The twins went back to the lab. Sounds were heard and then smoke appeared.
‘Where are you, Aql?’ said Amal. Aql was nowhere to be seen.
‘Don’t worry, I’m OK. I shrunk myself.
When I’m this small, it helps me create my equipment more precisely, with nanotechnology. All I need from you, Amal, is to come back to the lab in the morning with our friends and I’ll give you the latest update then.’
The next morning, everyone eagerly hurried to meet Aql in the lab.
speaking into a megaphone.
‘Where are you, Aql?’ asked everyone.
‘I’m inside the computer. Come closer, you can see me on the screen. I need your help.’
‘Of course we’ll help you.’
‘Not from out there, I need help in here,’ said Aql.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have to be the same size as me. Amal, please shrink our friends now.’
Amal gave Khalid and Omar the potion.
‘I’ve always wanted to be a character in a game,’ said Omar. ‘Aql, can I play some of the games on the computer?’
‘Not until I check the code and make sure you’ll be safe,’ said Aql.
Everyone started to work like bees in a beehive.
Aql gave directions, ‘Turn this way . . . bring that over here,’ and then added to Amal, ‘Press the computer-chip down with your finger, but be careful you don’t squash us.’
‘HA, HA, HA,’ laughed everyone.
‘OK, that’s good. Try again, Amal. Yes! Wonderful! It’s working!
‘And now please sing, clap and jump.’ Amal did all the actions.
‘That one’s working too. We did it!’ said Aql. He looked around suddenly and added, ‘Where’s Khalid disappeared to?’
‘He wouldn’t have gone to play Pac-Man — would he?’ wondered Omar.
‘OH MY GOD,NO! Amal, go to the computer and turn the game on. Omar and I are going in to save Khalid.’
‘OK,’ says Amal.
Amal watched Aql and Omar on the screen and guided them through the maze because Pac-Man was chasing them . . .
‘We’ve found Khalid,’ said Aql, ’but he’s in
trouble. The viruses have him cornered! Amal, you
need to get in here quickly because the only way
to kill these viruses is to zap them with energy.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Amal. She quickly shrunk herself and joined Aql and their friends in the game.
Amal managed to save everyone with her bracelet.
The teacher walked into the lab and said, ‘Where is everyone?’ Amal and the others suddenly appeared and told her what happened. ‘OH MY GOODNESS! THANK GOD YOU’RE ALL
RIGHT,’ said the teacher, sounding scared.
‘Aql, did you get the results you wanted?’
‘Yes!’ said Aql.
‘In that case, why don’t you tell us about your invention?’ she said.
‘Well, there are two small devices. The first one — made of computer chips — converts pressure into energy. It can be laid down under the surface of roads so lorries and cars drive over it, or school playgrounds where children tread on it while they play. It would also work in sports courts and
horse-racing tracks or even farms where animals move around.’
‘The second device detects sound and turns it into energy. All the noise generated by factories and cars can be converted into clean energy. Children’s laughter, music, singing, birds twittering, even the sounds of explosions can all be transformed into energy that lights the way for children and gives them hope.’
‘You’ve kept your promise to your friends and your country,’ said the teacher.
‘Not just to my country,’ said Aql. ‘Do you remember the first words of greeting we heard here: “Welcome to your second home”? This is my country too and maybe my invention can give back to it in return for the kindness we’ve received here. I hope my invention can travel all over the world on the wings of Dubai Cares and the Arab Hope Makers, to help children everywhere.’
When Aql and Amal’s friends — who came from many different countries — heard Aql’s wishes, they joined him as he took his invention on a trip around the world. They called on international organisations to stop the war in Aql and Amal’s
country and, together, managed to bring peace and security to every place on earth. And, thanks to Aql’s devices, pollution from oil and gas extraction also stopped.
As for Amal’s bracelet, the children decided to put it on top of Burj Khalifa, where its glowing rays would show the world that we are One Sustainable Happy Planet. All schools,
hospitals and homes would now have power and heat, and trees would be safe to grow until they touched the sky.
With the power of reason — Aql — and hope — Amal — we can achieve our goals, overcome our difficulties and build the future we aspire to, just like the heroes of our story.
Forever Giving
By Alyazia Salaheddin Khamis Alkaabi
It’s a beautiful, cool evening. Tea and coffee cups jostle around the dallahs for refills. The sweets we had earlier were delicious, but we never taste luqaimat like my grandmother’s any more. She used to make us the honeyed pastry balls every day during Ramadan. My grandmother, God rest her soul, preferred to do all her cooking on the outdoor fire. How lovely her fragrant smokeinfused clothes used to smell!
The leaves of palm trees express joy and pride as autumn season is coming, because the leaves of other trees have fallen and turned dry that sometimes make frightening noises, while the
leaves of palm trees do not fall.
We sit by my grandfather. His wrinkles have grown deeper and the red of his ghutrah seems to blend with the hues of his face. He’s always preferred the red checkered headdress to other colours. He’s over ninety now and his movement has become slow and laboured. His joints trouble him and, since my grandmother died, I hear his nightly groans from leg and back pain. The only medicine he takes is a herbal remedy, which he keeps with him all the time. In the past, he had to struggle for survival, diving for pearls in the Arabian Gulf, then enduring the harsh perils of the desert — on foot as there was no other transport — to sell the pearls in Kuwait. What used to bother him most was that pearl divers would spend countless days and nights on their mission, all for a small-time merchant to make a quick profit many times the amount the divers earned. This used to be his livelihood, his lot in life, but now, he tries to disguise his old age by taking complete control of our gatherings.
‘I’ll get the firewood, children.’
‘No, no, I’ll get it. You don’t know how to do it and you might get hurt by sharp branches.’
‘Nothing! Everything’s fine, children. Where’s the tea and coffee? The luqaimat? The harees?’
‘Or do you want those cooking pots to stay empty?’
My grandfather eyes the empty pots with a laugh and prepares to cook our meal.
‘Who loves tea as much as I do?’ he asks us.
‘And who loves coffee as much as I do?’ ‘ME! ME! ME!’
‘Do you all love tea and coffee, just because I do?’ ‘Yes, Jaddi.’
‘And I love you all very much. Your grandmother, God rest her soul, made tea that was unrivalled! Oh, that taste . . . But such is life, let’s not dwell on it too much.’
He stokes the fire, as he always does, with his walking-stick. The stick is like his shadow. He
takes it everywhere. He leans on it when he walks and uses it to gather firewood and stoke fires. Even when he goes out in his car, he keeps it by his side. What a good friend it is to my beloved grandfather and how carefully he takes care of it!
I ask Jaddi why he always carries that stick.
It’s part of our history, he tells us, our religion and our roots. It’s also a good partner on journeys. ‘I once used it to kill a snake,’ he says. ‘It was a big, yellow, terrifying snake with a tongue that darted in and out like a thief. Its poison was strong, fastacting and deadly. If you didn’t finish it off right away, it would beat you to it and . . .’
‘Another time, I raised the stick to beat away a wild wolf — it looked just like a dog, except its eyes bulged out more — and it ran away in fear. I cut this stick from a ghaf tree forty years ago.’
Complete silence on our end follows this last sentence.
My grandfather chats on to the fire as if it’s a good friend of his, but needs to get more and more firewood to finish cooking the food he’s grilling.
‘Jaddi, may I ask you a question?’
‘Go ahead, my dear girl.’ He looks at me, his eyes pouring with tears, whether from the smoke or from reminiscing about my grandmother, I don’t know.
My grandfather glares at me and his gaze sends a whole caravan of blame my way, but continues to poke at the fire.
After we eat, we sit by the fire. Everyone’s quiet, I’m not sure why. My grandfather’s saying some words over and over, but I don’t understand them.
‘Nothing. I’m not saying anything, my dear.’
I try hard to listen as he mutters. I hear him say, ‘The ghaf, the ghaf. It’s the mother.’
‘What’s the ghaf, Jaddi?’ I ask, ‘At school
today, we were asked to come up with projects for looking after ghaf trees, but we don’t know anything about them. The school’s giving cash prizes to the winners — 3000 dirhams!’
My grandfather sighs deeply and says, ‘Earlier
today, just before sunset, your brother asked me what the ghaf was and why the United Arab Emirates chose it as a national symbol. And you asked me about my stick and about firewood.’
‘Of course there is! I’ll explain it with a wonderful story for all of you, dearest ones. But first, I’ve just remembered something.
‘The prize money your school’s offering is a good amount. Did you know my entire education — all stages combined — only cost me 50 dirhams?’ My grandfather laughs and tells us how he had to write on leaves and on classroom walls.
‘Our suffering was great. But, with God’s grace and thanks to our Sheikhs, everything’s now been made available for you. And in return for the advantages given to you by our nation and our leaders, may God grant them long life, we expect you to continue to strive for more achievements and distinction.’
We gather closer to him. The fire looks wonderful and the water boiling in the teapot makes a pleasant bubbling sound, but all eyes are on my grandfather.
‘There was once a woman who lived, quiet and alone, in the desert far from our home. She never changed her ways, no matter how her circumstances changed. If she was poor, she would give to others and if she was rich, she made whoever approached her rich too.
She would give food and water without question to whoever called on her, never sending anyone away, even if they stayed for many days and years. During the day, she served the most delicious fare: her food was healing and her drink cured all ails. Her shadow was a cloud that protects from the sun.’
‘Yes, she’s a great and generous woman.
‘One day, a herd of animals attacked her so she gave them food, water and shelter and they only left when their bellies were full and their
thirst had been quenched.’
‘Did she face all these animals alone, Jaddi?’
The others told me off for interrupting Jaddi and he smiled, and continued talking without answering my question.
‘Once, when we were children, maybe eleven or twelve years old, my brother Youssef, God rest his soul, became very ill . . .’
‘Yes, that’s him. Our adventure began like this: I hauled Youssef onto my back and carried him to her at night. We were poor in those days and I didn’t have a camel to ride.’
‘No, my child, we mostly travelled at night because it was so hot during the day and we were used to living in the desert. We were comfortable with the desert and it was comfortable with us.’
‘DIDN’T WE JUST TELL YOU NOT TO
INTERRUPT?’ yelled the others.
‘That’s enough, children, I’ll go on with the story now.’
‘Yes, thank God.’
‘Yes, she’s a doctor and a wonderful, generous woman,’ said my grandfather.
‘When we arrived, she offered us food and drink and a house to stay in while your great uncle Youssef was being treated. It was a comfortable shelter for us after our exhausting journey. Youssef almost died on the trip: he was worryingly thin and I didn’t hear him make a sound the entire way there, not even a whisper. More than once, I thought he had died, but his warm breath would return to murmur in my ear that, thank God, he was still alive.’
‘GOODNESS, she even gave you accommodation!’
A series of questions rained down on my grand-
father and the encouraging gleam in his eyes seemed to say, ‘Go ahead and ask, ask more . . .’ but he remained silent until everyone was quiet for a moment.
‘I’ll tell you who she is, children.’
‘Yes, you do. She’s . . . she’s . . . your mother.’ ‘WHAT?’
‘Yes, your mother.’ ‘Who, Jaddi?’
‘Our mother . . .’
We start talking amongst ourselves. Our mother? My grandfather watches and suddenly seems a bit angry.
‘Children,’ he says, ‘our first mother is the person who gives birth to us. The nation we’re brought up in and where we live is our mother too. Our language, culture and traditions are all a mother to us as well.’
‘Both real and metaphorical.’
‘We’ll go and thank her tomorrow.’ ‘When will we leave?’
‘Go to sleep now and tomorrow, after dawn prayers, we’ll go and offer our thanks.’
In the morning, everyone gathers around Jaddi’s car to wait for him.
‘Are you all still set on going?’
‘Let’s go and give her a lovely present. She is your mother, isn’t she?’
We all look at him, but no one says a word.
We head off towards the desert with my grandfather and every time we see a human shape, we think it must be ‘her’.
Different ideas cross our mind. Did he mean our own mother? No, she only leaves home to go on visits. My grandfather must have been talking about something else. We haven’t gone far yet, but we decide to stop for a rest in the shade of a big tree.
‘We’ll get there soon, it’s not far from here,’ said grandfather.
We look around in every direction. Where was this generous woman?
From his pocket, my grandfather takes a square of white cloth with a logo on it — a ghaf tree — and fixes it onto a long flagpole. Everyone’s watching him.
‘Yesterday, I asked you about this year’s national symbol and you didn’t answer. So now, Jaddi . . .’ says my brother, ‘what does the ghaf symbol mean? Please tell me before we arrive at that woman’s place.’
‘I’ll answer all your questions,’ says Jaddi. ‘You’re right now sitting in the shade of the mother I told you about.’
Everyone looks up.
‘It’s a ghaf tree,’ says Jaddi. ‘Alhamdulillah, Jaddi finally answered my
question!’ says my brother.
‘I answered all your questions,’ says Jaddi.
‘Was your story about the ghaf tree?’
‘Yes, the ghaf tree is the mother I spoke of. Its
leaves are nourishing and healing and its branches are the firewood we use to cook. Our forefathers built houses from its wood and sheltered in its shade. It has stood firm for long years in harsh weather and an unforgiving environment. And because our forefathers watered it with their sweat, it has come to represent perseverance to Emiratis. We now know every detail of the ghaf tree’s life, starting from when it first sprouts from a seed and flowers, until it grows to maturity.
‘It’s an important symbol in our lives, my children. It was
the meeting place for our tribal councils long ago and it embraced both happy occasions and sad. Its impact is so profound that every one of us is proud of the ghaf trees they own. And I’m extra proud of this stick of mine!’ he said as he raised his walking stick high into the air.
‘And now, dearest children, do you understand why our nation chose the symbol of the ghaf tree?’
We answer after a pause to collect our thoughts, ‘YES! YES! We’ll take good care of it. We’ll put our hearts and soul into it —the ghaf tree is our mother.’
Tears of happiness flow from Jaddi’s eyes, but these are interrupted by us all gathering round to hug him and by his own words of prayer, ‘God bless this much-revered tree, this mother who gives without taking . . . whose giving never ends.’
‘I want all of you to win the school prize together. Whoever wins should stand by the others and give them a share. Do you agree, my dear grandchildren?’
At morning assembly, the winning projects are
about to be announced and my grandfather is waiting eagerly. He’s been invited as a guest and is standing next to the Head Teacher.
The first prize is awarded to the short story: ‘Forever Giving’.
The second prize goes to the project: Inspired by the Past to Build the Future.
And the third prize-winning project is: Together for Sustainability of Ghaf Trees.
To his surprise, my grandfather is called to the stage. The prize for first place will be given to him. This was the request we — his grandchildren — made to the school administration: if our project won, we wanted the prize to go to our grandfather because we first heard the ghaf tree’s story from him and we worked together on writing it.
When my grandfather’s name is called a second time, all the students cheer, ‘OUR GRANDFATHER’S GIVING NEVER ENDS! OUR GHAF TREE GIVES FOR EVER!’
The Leader of Heroes
By Lama Ehab Almousa
There was once a boy named Mohammed. He worked hard at school and his friends liked him very much. Every day, he’d walk to school on a pavement that was always spotless and he’d pass by a wall so clean, that if you touched it, you wouldn’t find a single speck of dust. He would gaze happily at the green trees where birds had built their beautiful nests and play with his cat friends in the street. He was proud of his lovely city.
One day, Mohammed had a lesson about children’s rights at school. Earlier, he’d asked his father to explain them to him and learned that the right to education was the most important
one. Hearing this had made him happy and eager, as he headed to school the next day, to share his thoughts in class and talk to his teacher about children’s rights.
A few days later, a sandstorm hit the city. When it became known the storm was going to last for some time, the school decided, for the students’ safety, that they should stay at home starting the next day.
On the morning of the storm, Mohammed had gone out to walk to school as usual, but the weather had been stormy and almost everything had been blown out of its place. Worried about his health and safety, his mother got him to wear sunglasses and a scarf against the dust and his father insisted the driver drop him off by car because of the bad weather. On the way, as he looked out of the car window, he’d been surprised to see the ground full of litter and the lovely wall covered in dust and mud. The sky was no longer blue and the beautiful birds were gone from the trees, whose branches had been broken and their leaves swept away. The wind was blowing furiously and his cat friends were nowhere to be seen.
Feeling sad, Mohammed told his parents after school how worried he was about the city. After listening carefully, they understood how upset he was and they were worried too. They went to see the mayor, who explained the city was facing a storm that would affect its clean streets and stop cleaners from doing their jobs.
Mohammed’s parents came home with the news that, because of the storm, life — and cleaning — in the city would be held up for days and its streets would be filled with litter and fallen leaves.
Mohammed was troubled to hear this. He was determined to do something for his city and the environment. As he wondered what to do, his eyes fell on his money box and he had an idea. He ran to get his money box and went to tell his father about his plan.
‘Can I speak to you dad?’ Mohammed eagerly
asked his father, who was staring glumly out of the window at the wrecked street.
‘What is it son?’
‘You told me that children have the right not to be forced to work, but they can volunteer to help their environment, their community and their
country. I’ve decided my friends and I should volunteer to clean up the neighbourhood. I’ll suggest it to them and we can all work together. All we need is some equipment and rubbish bags, which we can buy from the shops. What do you
think?’ Mohammed’s father liked the idea, and right away decided to help and encourage him. He wanted the work to begin as soon as possible.
Two days later, Mohammed woke up to find the storm had calmed and the weather had settled down, so he decided to get started.
He went out with his father and bought a set of brooms, cloth bags and cardboard boxes. He made sure not to use plastic bags that are bad for the environment. He told his friends who lived nearby about his plan to clean and tidy up the neighbourhood. The children loved the idea and eagerly joined in. Each of them grabbed some more cleaning equipment and headed for Mohammed’s house. He divided them into teams and they began to work.
The friends worked hard, really putting their hearts into it. They gathered the fallen leaves and branches and, with their parents’ help, col-
lected the broken glass, plastic, and metal waste into bags. They tied the bags tightly so they could be sent for recycling, and so no one would get hurt. They washed the walls and ground in the street, using hoses fitted with spray nozzles so they didn’t waste water.
As they worked, they heard laughter from down the street and turned towards the sound.
Saeed came closer. ‘HA, HA, HA! Mohammed and his little group of friends have turned into cleaners. You look pathetic with your clothes all
smeared with dirt like that. How stupid can you get?’
‘It would make me proud to be one of our nation’s wonderful cleaners. If it wasn’t for them, your city wouldn’t be beautiful and your street wouldn’t be clean. This dirt came from hard work, not from fooling around and making mischief. Get out of here and let us work in peace,’ said Mohammed firmly.
At these words, Saeed and his gang froze. They realised they weren’t going to get a rise out of Mohammed’s group of friends, so they decided to leave.
The young heroes went on working and did an amazing job of tidying up the chaos in the street. They worked for an entire day under the careful eyes of their parents, who were watching with interest and cheering them on. Their mothers made delicious sweets and cakes and served them to their little heroes with love and joy. By evening, the neighbourhood was beautiful, clean and tidy.
People from the neighbourhood came out to look and were surprised to find it was lovely and spotless again. They were proud of the wonder-
ful work and especially proud of the children who had shown so much love for their country and the environment. The mayor was thrilled and, at a special ceremony where everyone gathered, gave the children certificates of thanks for their hard work and achievement. Mohammed’s plan had made the mayor proud of them all. He thanked Mohammed for his idea and presented him with a plaque of appreciation. Saeed and his friends watched resentfully from a distance. The happiest person that day was Mohammed’s father. He was delighted with his son — a great leader and a responsible child who worked well with his friends and respected the rights of nature.
He deserved the pride of his nation.
Matrah’s Adventures in Al-Dhafra
by Matrah Ebrahim Saleh
There was once a clever, hardworking girl who lived in the United Arab Emirates, a land of peace and tolerance, founded on principles of respect for all by Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, God rest his soul.
The girl’s name was Matrah and her family, friends and teachers all loved her. Matrah liked swimming, travelling and reciting poetry. She lived, with her parents and five-year-old sister Maryam, in a lovely little house in Masdar City — a sustainable community in Abu Dhabi and the first city in the world to depend on clean, renewable energy.
Every day after school, Matrah ate lunch with her family and studied her lessons. Later she had swim practice in their home pool with her private coach, then she and Maryam played with toys. After that, she did some artwork, like drawing on recycled paper or reusing plastic to make decorations, before settling down with her iPad, or in front of the TV, to watch cartoons. At seven thirty, over supper, her family enjoyed conversations about school and their community. Bedtime was next and Matrah’s mother or father would read her an exciting story before she went to sleep in her room.
In the morning, she’d wake up early, full of energy, and make her bed, wash her face and brush her teeth. She’d have a healthy breakfast with all the different food groups in it. There’d be fruits and vegetables, which contain vitamins, and muscle-building, protein-rich cheese. She’d eat bread for carbohydrates to give her energy and drink milk full of calcium to give her healthy bones and teeth. Then she’d start a fun new day!
One day, Matrah was studying in her room when she heard someone at the door.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
‘It’s me, Matrah,’ said her mother. ‘Please come in, Ummi,’ said Matrah.
Her mother greeted her, ‘As-salamu-alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu.’
barakatuhu,’ Matrah replied.
‘Matrah, I’d like to tell you something,’ said her mother.
‘A friend of mine has been telling me about a big camp for girls that needs volunteers, and you know how keen I am to offer my time to do good and help others. I’ve always encouraged you to get involved in volunteer work too.’
‘It’s far away, though, out in the desert in Al-Dhafra. I’ll take you and your sister with me, and we’ll go for eight to ten days in winter break.’
Matrah waited eagerly for the trip and spent
ages wondering what she would do there.
A month later . . .
On the first day of winter break, Matrah started getting ready. Her mother was busy packing, and Matrah was choosing toys, interesting books and electronics to take and helping her sister Maryam.
Their mother came to help.
‘Girls, this trip will take us far away from city life. Let’s pick things that suit the place we’re going to — I’d rather we didn’t take electronics,’ she said.
Matrah suggested bringing active toys instead of electronics and Maryam agreed.
The next morning . . .
The volunteers and their children gathered at the meeting point and got onto the buses headed for Al-Dhafra, which used to be called the Western Region. Most of the UAE’s oil and gas fields are found in Al-Dhafra and it’s also home to many different animals and crops.
On the way, the volunteers chatted and got to know each other. The bus stopped for a half-hour
break in Baynunah and then moved on. From the window, Matrah looked out onto a landscape of beautiful sand dunes and she also spied some camels. The camel is called the ship of the desert because of the way it walks, swaying over sand dunes like a ship on the waves. It’s a tall, longnecked animal, with a large, strong body and a hump on its back where fat’s stored for energy. The camel’s strong memory helps it recognise its owner and find its way as it strides confidently through the desert.
‘This is such an AMAZING view, Ummi!’ said
Matrah.
The bus arrived at the camp. Matrah smiled in delighted surprise at the charming scene in the heart of the desert. It was a large camp, with a huge number of small tents; some big ‘House of Hair’ tents, which are woven from goat hair; a restaurant; and public facilities. The volunteers were met with a polite and friendly welcome from the camp manager. Then the camp programme was explained — a large number of college and university students were expected the next day — and the volunteers and their children
were assigned their tents.
Matrah and her sister ran into their tent, while their mother walked behind. The inside of the tent surprised Matrah. There was nothing there except for a place to sleep and an electric lamp. Public facilities like bathrooms and the restaurant were all outside the tent.
The girls’ mother did her best to get them settled in and asked Matrah to help unpack the bags and get everything organised in the tent. Maryam was a bit frightened of the new place and Matrah comforted her with stories about their grandparents and great-grandparents before them, who long ago lived in tents just like theirs, made of goat hair mixed with wool. The tents protected them from the hot rays of the sun and from wind and rain as well. After their long, exhausting day, Matrah and her sister fell asleep in their mother’s arms.
First day of camp . . .
After waking up early, Matrah joined her mother as she started her camp duties: welcoming large numbers of students in groups, assigning tents
and serving food.
Matrah enjoyed the volunteer work and tried to help everyone. Even though she was young — none of the other volunteers were her age — she managed to convince the camp manager to let her work with them. The manager welcomed her to the team. She was their youngest volunteer and would help the administrators and show the students around camp.
Second day of camp . . .
The students gathered to raise the flag and sing the national anthem. Matrah sang the words with pride and joy, her voice ringing through the desert of Al-Dhafra: انتارامإ داحتا شاع يدلب يشيع
Long live my country, long live the union of our Emirates نآرقلا هيده ملسلا هنيد بعشل تشع
Long may you live for a people of Islam, led by the Qur’an نطو اي هللا مساب كتنصح
Fortified with strength in God’s name, may you stand
يدلب يدلب يدلب يدلب
My country, my country, my country, my country نامزلا رورش هللا كامح
God save you from all of the evils of time لمعن ينبن نأ انمسقأ
We have sworn to build, to work صلخن لمعن صلخن لمعن
Work sincerely, work sincerely صلخن صلخن انشع امهم
All our lives, we’ll be sincere انتارامإ اي ملعلا شاعو ناملا ماد
Ever in safety, long live the flag of our Emirates كيورن ءامدلاب كيدفن انلك ةبورعلا زمر
Beacon of Arabs, Gladly in your stead, we would spill our blood نطو اي حاورلاب كيدفن
We’d give our souls in your stead, O homeland.
Next, the student camp activities started. There were classes for traditional crafts like weaving, lace-making and fragrance-making and other handicrafts like pottery and freehand drawing. Sports, including archery and horse-riding, were also part of the programme. After sunset, the
evening party started, with poetry recitals and public-speaking competitions and many other events.
‘Why can’t WE join in?’ Matrah asked her
mother.
‘Because this camp is for older girls — higher grade and university students,’ said her mother, ‘but tomorrow I’ll speak to the camp manager to see what we can do, especially since there aren’t very many children here.’
Third day of camp . . .
Everyone woke up early, full of energy and ready
to enjoy the camp activities. Matrah’s mother told the camp manager how the children felt and suggested organising activities for them. The manager agreed at once — after all, the children helped make the camp a success — and started planning special activities to suit them. The girls’ mother rushed back to give them the good news.
Competitions for children were held in drawing, clay sculpting, singing and poetry-recital. Matrah entered the poetry recital competition and Maryam chose drawing. They both joined the craft activities and learned the techniques of alsadu, traditional handmade weaving to make fabric for tents; al-talli, Emirati bobbin lace, still used today to decorate women’s clothes; and the traditional craft of making fragrance, al-dukhoon. Emiratis use al-dukhoon every day to perfume their homes and clothes; it’s made from oud sticks and a mixture of essential oils. Matrah and Maryam enjoyed doing the crafts; they tried out and practised each one. All the children at camp were very happy!
Matrah went to speak to her mother in their tent.
‘Ummi, please can I make natural fertiliser out of food-scraps? There’s plenty of fruit peel and other scraps here and I’ve watched a short film about turning kitchen waste into fertiliser. Every morning after breakfast, I’ll collect all the eggshells and pound them into powder with a rock. Eggshell-powder is often used as a fertiliser because it’s full of calcium.’
‘Mashallah, that’s an excellent idea, Matrah. Maryam and I will help; we’ll team up to collect the eggshells, grind them up and pack the powder into bags, so it can be used to fertilise ghaf trees. The ghaf is very special to Emiratis. It’s survived for long years in spite of the harsh weather and difficult environment and was a beacon of culture where thinkers, writers and poets would meet. Today, the ghaf tree is a true symbol of tolerance; it’s the seed of love, sown by Baba Zayed into the nation’s heart and its path of wise leadership; an authentic part of Emirati heritage.’
Matrah enjoyed the camp so much that, instead of travelling abroad as she used to do, she asked her mother if she could volunteer at the annual camp for the next three years. Matrah
felt truly grateful for her days at the camp: she thanked God for His blessings and gave her thanks and admiration to the UAE leaders and government, and to her parents.
When she went back to school after winter break, she proudly shared her wonderful experience in Al-Dhafra with her friends. Everyone was excited to hear the story of ‘THE DIARY OF MATRAH IN AL-DHAFRA’.
About VoFG
Voices of Future Generations is a unique writing initiative, created to promote Sustainability and the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. HH Sheikha Hissa bint Hamdan bin Rashid Al Maktoum is the Goodwill Ambassador for the initiative for the Gulf Region.
The initiative was first launched internationally in 2014, and it is in its first year in the Gulf Region.
Voices of Future Generations is a writing competition for students between eight and twelve, encouraging young writers to engage with the Sustainable Development Goals and the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child by incorporating one or more of them in their stories. The focus is on creativity and imagination, with stories focused on characters that overcome something, as all good adventure tales do.
Under the patronage of the
United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization
End poverty in all its forms everywhere
End hunger, achieve food security and improved nutrition and promote sustainable agriculture
Ensure healthy lives and promote wellbeing for all at all ages Ensure inclusive and equitable quality education and promote lifelong learning opportunities for all
Achieve gender equality and empower all women and girls Ensure availability and sustainable management of water and sanitation for all
Ensure access to affordable, reliable, sustainable and modern energy for all
Promote sustained, inclusive and sustainable economic growth, full and productive employment and decent work for all
Ensure inclusive and equitable quality education and promote lifelong learning opportunities for all Achieve gender equality and empower all women and girls
Ensure availability and sustainable management of water and sanitation for all
Ensure sustainable consumption and production patterns Take urgent action to combat climate change and its impacts
Conserve and sustainably use the oceans, seas and marine resources for sustainable development Protect, restore and promote sustainable use of terrestrial ecosystems, sustainably manage forests, combat desertification, and halt and reverse land degradation and halt biodiversity loss Promote peaceful and inclusive societies for sustainable development, provide access to justice for all and build effective, accountable and inclusive institutions at all levels
Strengthen the means of implementation and revitalise the global partnership for sustainable development
Child Authors
Abdul Karim Ismat Ghazal
(11 Years Old)
Abrar Sirohey
(12 Years Old)
Aditi Gandhi
(12 Years Old)
Ahmad Ismail Zindah
(12 Years Old)
Al Yazia Salah Al Din Al-Kaabi
(11 Years Old)
Aamna Hamad Salim Ubaid Saif Al Suwaidi
(12 Years Old)
Hazza Al-Ameri
(10 Years Old)
Ioana Stefanova
(9 Years Old)
Joshua Melwin
(12 Years Old)
Mir Faraz
(9 Years Old)
Lama Ihab Al-Musa
(9 Years Old)
Nour Ahmad Al-Khatib
(11 Years Old)
Matara Ibrahim
(8 Years Old)
Saira Thomas
(10 Years Old)
Meghna Senthilkumar
(9 Years Old)
Sashini Manikandan
(12 Years Old)
Saud Ahmad Al Kaabi
(8 Years Old)
Shahid Fayis
(11 Years Old)
Suhaila Abdul Halim Mansur
(11 Years Old)
Ward Wisam Al-Halabi
(11 Years Old)
Celebrate the winners of the Middle East’s first Voices of Future Generations competition in this adventure-packed anthology. Collecting the ten winners of the Arabic competition and the ten winners of the English, this beautifully illustrated volume features journeys under the sea and into space, explorations of traditional and ultra-modern corners of the region, and countless acts of kindness and bravery. Above all, it demonstrates the dedication of these young writers to changing the world through the UN Sustainable Development Goals. No matter how magical the adventure, each story features realistic actions that any young person can take.
“The enthusiasm with which these children took up the call to write about the Sustainable Development Goals is a very encouraging sign for the future. The winning stories are imaginative and show great understanding of the issues but are also a pleasure to read.”
H.H. Sheikh Hamdan Bin Rashid Al Maktoum, Deputy Ruler of Dubai and UAE Minister of Finance
“The writers who took part in the VOFG Arabia Competition should be very proud of themselves for their accomplishments. This wonderful project demonstrates how environmentally conscious and forward-thinking young people in the Gulf region are.”
The Hamdan Bin Rashid Al Maktoum Foundation for Distinguished Academic Performance
“The love the authors of these stories have for the environment and the care they show towards vulnerable species is hugely encouraging.”
Dr Jane Goodall
United Nations Cultural Organization Under the patronage of the
