Tag Archives: Aya Ghanameh

Everything Grows in Jiddo’s Garden by Jenan A. Matari illustrated by Aya Ghanameh

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Everything Grows in Jiddo’s Garden by Jenan A. Matari illustrated by Aya Ghanameh

This sweetly illustrated 32 page rhyming book starts off introducing a little girl living in one place, and having a home in Palestine that she has never been to, but loves.  The book then becomes pretty universal with her and her grandfather talking about what grows, his “green thumb superpowers,” and the magic of planting small trees that change and produce. The pages then add in more Arabic words of what is grown, and then when Jiddo is drying his eyes recounting why he had to flee his home and his roots, I too, found I was emotionally invested in light of everything current and past, and the simple words weaving a heartfelt story of family, connection, and home. I do wish that there was some Islam in the text or illustrations: a dua, a plea to Allah swt, a hijab on a main character not just on background memories, but there is not. There is also nothing overtly political or named in the text. The backmatter does discuss the Nakba without naming names and highlights the author’s inspiration, but inshaAllah nothing that will get the book banned or kept off shelves. The rhyme and cadence are pretty good, it doesn’t feel overly forced, but when reading aloud in a group, as always, I suggest practicing a few times to make the flow consistent.

The book starts with a beautiful spread of a mother and daughter looking through a photo album, and imaging going to Palestine one day, the subsequent pages show how Jiddo’s garden helps bring Palestine to them. The “sour green janarek plums,” “crunchy green khiyar,” and “plump red bandora.” Mama makes warak enab and Teta sings for more.

One day the little girl wonders how her Jiddo learned to grow everything and he shares that he learned from his father how to care for the land.  She then wants to know why they left Palestine, and he says, “our land was taken from us…and our family had to flee.” The hope is to return, the illustrations show the key to their occupied home being held on to, and reinforces the symbolism that Palestinians are like seeds that will flourish wherever they are, reaching toward the light.

The book contains a glossary with words written in English and in Arabic script, and an author’s note in the backmatter with presumably personal photographs of the author and her family.  I read a digital ARC and look forward to release day for my preorder to arrive.

Dear Muslim Child by Rahma Rodaah illustrated by Aya Ghanameh

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Dear Muslim Child by Rahma Rodaah illustrated by Aya Ghanameh

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The flow, poignancy, and lyrical verses force you to slow down, take a deep breath, and immerse yourself in the concepts and ideas so beautifully presented in the text, and illustrated on the pages.  Whether you are reading it alone, snuggled up with a little one, or in a boisterous story time, this book pulls you in as it speak directly to the reader (or listener), burrowing inside and inspiring reassurance and confidence.  The tone of the text melds with the illustrations making the book appeal to those looking to understand, be seen, or to be empowered.  The short stanzas with the opening refrain of, “Dear Muslim child,” are a delight to read and share again and again, alhumdulillah.

The book does not have a story or a plot, but has an organization that keeps the pace moving in a poetic way. It starts by mentioning that we were meant to be, even “before Allah spoke the universe into existence.”  It then tells us about Islam, nur, names, the power of words, purifying our hearts (with wudu), listening to the adhan, and praying.  It talks of the beauty of hijab, and community, and purpose and mattering.

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The centering of Allah (swt) is not shied away from, yet the book is not preachy or overly religious.  For example wudu is shown, but not named; adhan is named but not defined.  If you wish to discuss each page, there is a lot to unfold, but if you want to just read the surface it is beautiful just the same.  The book is traditionally published, and a true accomplishment of the author, and the authors that have come before that this book, this type of book, is widely available for us all to enjoy.

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These Olive Trees: A Palestinian Family’s Story by Aya Ghanameh

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These Olive Trees: A Palestinian Family’s Story by Aya Ghanameh

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This stunningly illustrated OWN voice Palestinian book for early elementary kids is an important story and I love that it is coming out to the world, but I do have some issues with the literary aspects and target demographic.  The story bounces around from being factual about the brining and curing process of turning the bitter olives into numerous things, to Oraib’s present life in the refugee camp, to memories of the family’s life in Al Tira.  When war once again drives the family from their home in the Balata refugee camp, Oraib, plants seeds and vows to return one day to harvest the fruit.  The language at times is very mature and complicated for ages 5-8, I felt uncomfortable with the family moving being attributed to war and not occupation, and at one point it clearly articulates there are many olive trees located outside the camp and that they are leaving the seeds that would be later planted, so why is the climax her asking the earth permission to plant one more and for the sky to water and care for it until she can return? The backmatter allows the book to be used to spread awareness about Palestine and the process of harvesting olives, but the illustrations will appeal to younger readers, and the concepts contained seem more geared for slightly older ones.  There is nothing religious in the book, there is depiction of the Dome of the Rock in an illustration and I believe the author/illustrator identify as Muslim.

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The writing style of the book is fairly surface level with concepts not fleshed out to allow difficult concepts to reach younger readers.  When describing the taste of the fresh olives, Oraib wonders if long ago people were, “pleasantly surprised by its acidity.”  No insight into what that acidity tastes like, or bitterness, or what curing and brining means.  Often the paragraphs seem long winded and repetitive, adding very little to advance the story.

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There is little lyricism in the text, and the first time some tries to peek out, the metaphor is quickly abandoned, and it is notable that it doesn’t return.  The occasional enjoying of the bitter fresh olives is juxtaposed with the surprising joy occasionally found in the camp, it seems that with the uprooting of the family once again at the end, this thread would have been a natural inclusion to reinforce the patience for something better to occur.

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The dramatization of asking the earth and sky when planting a seed upon their departure, didn’t make much sense to me.  It is noted there are olive trees already there, the illustrations show the ground littered with seeds that were to be planted had they stayed, so why not have the little girl pocket some of the seeds to take with her wherever they go.  That is after all what the mother is doing at the beginning.  Why not have the little girl invest in the cause herself and share in that ownership that they will always endure and prosper. The personification of the earth, sky and rain also doesn’t seem to fit the flow of the story, so much is internal observation and reflection of the main character, that this seems like an attempt to bring it back to a child’s level that instead just reads disjointed.

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I might have missed something as I am not Palestinian, but the book to look at is incredibly beautiful, I just don’t think it will be read and remembered by young children.  One of my first thoughts when reading it was that it was an early draft, but it is to be published soon and this review is based on the most recent version sent to me. I also wondered in the back of my mind if the book was allowed to be used to check a box, and wasn’t given the editing and polishing that it deserved on purpose.  It depresses me to even think that, and I guess I’ll never know, but I would love to hear your thoughts, and I do hope you will request your local libraires to shelve the book as a show of support to authentic Palestinian voices.

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