Forgotten Dedications of Doctor Yousiff (Joseph) Yahyi

Forgotten Dedications of

Doctor Yousiff (Joseph) Yahyi

In recent days my dear friend and neighbor in my beloved village Aramoun, Chauki A’rrif Abi Ghanaam, sent me a book entitled: ‘Aramoun in Reminiscence and Nature’.  The book is written by the author Shafiq Amin Yahyi and was officially launched in the village’ hall on 18 October 2013.  This particular copy of the book was dedicated to Chauki by the author. On the back of the front cover of the book there is beautifully handwritten poem by Chauki’ nephew - Ramzi Assad Yahyi.  I am indebted to Chauki for this endearing gift.  I also extend my deep appreciation and thanks to the author and to everyone that contributed to make this book possible.

Having read the book I can say that although I left Aramoun at the age of 11 years I related either from direct memory or through hearsay to substantial parts of the narratives and tales dealing with the distant past under the Ottoman era, the twentieth century, the present and continuum.  I was particularly touched and relate to the story of the Late Doctor Yousiff Yahyi and Palestine that appears on page 97.  The reason for being touched by the story stems from the fact that the Late Doctor youngest sister, May, was a student in the Seventh Day Advantest School in Aramoun at the same time I was in the primary section of that school.

From very young age I learned to play the Tabla (Durbeki) and learned the beats for common folkloric dances.  I also learned the beat that accompanies the poets on stage when they are hotly debating their Zajal and vibrating their hand held tambourine.  I specifically recall as either 8 or 9 or possibly 10 years old attending to May’s wedding.  I attended the night before the wedding and the following day when May dressed as a bride left her parent’s home with the bridal party.  The well known and highly regarded poets (now deceased): Zein Shai’eb, and Assad Saeed were present.  The night before the wedding everyone was anticipating the arrival of doctor Youssif from Damascus. Non more so than his elderly beloved father Sleiman.  Shortly before 11 pm the good doctor made his appearance and went straight to hug his father.  At this point Assad Saeed said a short poem (raadi) that brought tears to the eyes of everyone present.  Assad was asked number of time to repeat the poem and each time he added to it.  In essence the poem was a masterpiece and it could have easily come from John Chrysostom better known as the Golden Mouth, being so apt and opportune for the occasion.  Assad said: ‘once Jacob was so sickly melancholic that all learned and men of wisdom gave up on treating him and said it is a matter of short time before he departs life but Jacob’s zest for life and sight was restored when he smelled Joseph’ shirt and hugged him as long lost youngest and favourite son’.  Needless to say everyone who had gun or a pistol handy started shooting in the air.

The following day in a heated poetic debate between Assad and Zein during which Zein compared Assad to a porter in fruit and vegetable market.  Assad was in a fine form his reply was again like words coming from the Golden Mouth.  Assad reply in essence:  ‘you sent me as a sample porter to the market and the crowd was competing for my services. A rusted tin becomes so precious in the hands of wise metal worker and the most precious jewel will lose its luster and value in the hands of a fool’.  Again Assad was asked to repeat his reply and again everyone who had pistol or gun ready started shooting in the air.

I am proud to say I was the tabla player sitting next to Zein at that time!

After reading the story of doctor Youssif commencing on page 97 in the book it was the first time I became aware that the good doctor had built hospital and practiced medicine in Haifa Palestine before the creation of the State of Israel.  It is ironic in the extreme having escaped the wars immediately before and after the official declaration of the State of Israel in 1948 to be martyred 35 years later in his practice by Israeli bombing raid on Damascus during the 1973 Arab/Israeli war.  It is heartening to know that despite the hazard of the journey to Damascus at the time good number of fellow Aramouni made it to the funeral.   

It is heartening to know that his memory in Aramoun is eternal and a chapter in this commendable new book about Aramoun is dedicated to his dedication to the medical profession and humanitarian deeds.

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