Come close, Sami, and sit by my side. Let me tell you a secret that the wind whispers through the dust. Long ago, before the sands stretched so wide, there was a land called Sham. It wasn't the beige and brown you see now, kiddo. It was a kingdom of emerald, a place where the earth breathed in shades of deep, mossy green.
In those days, rivers didn't just trickle; they sang. They tumbled over silver stones, feeding vast groves of silver-leaved olive trees. The air smelled of crushed thyme and wet earth. Grandpa remembers the stories of how the pastures were so tall, a small lamb could get lost in the swaying grass. It was a land chosen for its beauty and its peace.
Even the great Prophet Musa walked those lands. Before he led his people, he was a shepherd in the hills of Midian. Can you imagine him, kiddo? He stood upon the emerald slopes of Sham, leaning on his staff, watching his flock. The sheep were content, their bellies full of the sweetest clover that ever grew under the sun.
It was in this fertile cradle that the famous yellow cow was found. She was a wonder to behold—bright as a buttercup and glowing like a fallen piece of the sun. She stood amidst the deep green stalks of Sham, her coat so vivid it made the flowers look pale. She was a sign of the land’s hidden treasures, tucked away in the tall grass.
Then there was Maryam, the purest soul, who lived within the high walls of Bait al-Muqaddas. While the world outside buzzed, she remained in her quiet sanctuary. The stories say that even when the winter chilled the air, the most delicious summer fruits would appear before her, as if the green land of Sham couldn't wait to offer her its best gifts.
Later, her son, Isa, walked the very same paths. He didn't ride in golden carriages; he walked barefoot or on a donkey, his feet touching the cool, soft soil. He moved through the villages of Sham, and wherever he went, he spoke words of love that were as refreshing as a mountain spring to a thirsty traveler.
Isa loved the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. He taught people that kindness was the greatest harvest one could gather. As he walked under the shade of the fig trees, the leaves seemed to bow as he passed. The whole land of Sham felt like a garden where every path led to a lesson about being good to one another.
But time is a strange traveler, Sami. Slowly, the rains began to forget the way to the valleys. The rivers grew tired and retreated into the earth. The lush forests gave way to the sun’s harsh glare. The vibrant green that Musa and Isa once knew began to fade, turning into the golden, dusty hills we see today.
The glory didn't disappear, kiddo; it just went to sleep. Now, when the wind howls through the canyons, it carries the echoes of those ancient groves. If you listen closely to the rustle of the dry grass, you can almost hear the bleating of Musa’s sheep or the soft footsteps of Maryam in the temple.
So, remember the secrets of Green Sham. The land may look different now, but the stories keep the green alive in our hearts. We carry the love of Isa and the strength of Musa within us. And perhaps one day, if we care for the earth and each other, the rivers will find their song again. Goodnight, Sami.
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