The Lamenting Monotropa
photo by Toni Hafkenscheid
A story that follows jasmine flowers on a barge trip to the sun (Egyptian myth) which got lost in the grey Canadian landscape, only to realize that they changed into Monotropa Unifloras. The narrative then focuses on a transient plant oscillating between the monotropa and the jasmine. Demonstrating changes in the bud, roots, leaves and stem, moving between what is above the earth’s surface and what is below, between life and death. In relation to the myth of the sun barge on its daily trip through the world of the dead to bring back the sun the next morning.
Once labeled the culture of death, we have a thousands of years old tradition in Egypt called “Aadid” (calling for and lamenting the dead) that are hardly documented. The poems constituting the laments are based on the age, gender, status and job of the deceased and whether they died of natural causes or have suffered a trauma. The tradition is slowly disappearing, and mostly now practiced in the south of Egypt.
Once labeled the culture of death, we have a thousands of years old tradition in Egypt called “Aadid” (calling for and lamenting the dead) that are hardly documented. The poems constituting the laments are based on the age, gender, status and job of the deceased and whether they died of natural causes or have suffered a trauma. The tradition is slowly disappearing, and mostly now practiced in the south of Egypt.
و آدي بيتي و آدي اللي فيه مانبني غير الكفن منيه
فتشته حتى جريد النخل فتشته، على دوا العيان ما وجدته
فتشناه حتى حشيش البير فتشناه على دوا العيان ما وجدناه
عالي ياما قعدنا و القمر عالي، يامين يعود و قعادنا تاني
يا قاطع الشجرة من أولها، خلي فريعة نتضلل منها
Here is my home and and these are my possessions, all I have left from them is the shroud
I searched high and low and even through the palm leaves, but I never found the cure
We searched high and low and even through the grass in the well, but we never found the cure
How mighty and high the moon is, I would give anything to sit under it one more time
Oh you who cut the tree from its roots, leave us a stem to shield under
فتشته حتى جريد النخل فتشته، على دوا العيان ما وجدته
فتشناه حتى حشيش البير فتشناه على دوا العيان ما وجدناه
عالي ياما قعدنا و القمر عالي، يامين يعود و قعادنا تاني
يا قاطع الشجرة من أولها، خلي فريعة نتضلل منها
Here is my home and and these are my possessions, all I have left from them is the shroud
I searched high and low and even through the palm leaves, but I never found the cure
We searched high and low and even through the grass in the well, but we never found the cure
How mighty and high the moon is, I would give anything to sit under it one more time
Oh you who cut the tree from its roots, leave us a stem to shield under
Excerpt from the text on the wall
4:30 pm is when the monotropas feel loneliest. They become ghostly and melt as you touch them
A lament April 30, 2023
We lament the jasmines that transit into hybridity, we lament the loss of smell, we become submerged in the beauty of sorrow
Greyness and stiffness.
Layers of grey painting the sky, the air is filled with dense heavy mist, clouds thick as skin, coarse to the touch. Apep has settled here and with the help of Seth swallows the sun over and over again.
You push through but the wind pushes back. It penetrates your clothes, through skin, reaching the smallest atom and settles there.
A lingering overcast that burdens the soul and heart, but no one mentions their soul here nor do they master the art of grief.
4:30 pm is when the monotropas feel loneliest. They become ghostly and melt as you touch them
A lament April 30, 2023
We lament the jasmines that transit into hybridity, we lament the loss of smell, we become submerged in the beauty of sorrow
Greyness and stiffness.
Layers of grey painting the sky, the air is filled with dense heavy mist, clouds thick as skin, coarse to the touch. Apep has settled here and with the help of Seth swallows the sun over and over again.
You push through but the wind pushes back. It penetrates your clothes, through skin, reaching the smallest atom and settles there.
A lingering overcast that burdens the soul and heart, but no one mentions their soul here nor do they master the art of grief.
The Time of balsams
A Conversation between Lamis Haggag and Marina Fathalla about the lamenting Monotropa. The conversation took place at the outdoor garden area at 401 Richmond building in Toronto. Snacks and tea were served as an offering in line with how Haggag approaches the project. The conversation was graphically recorded by Emmie Tsumura
Graphic Recording by Emmie Tsumura