Episode (1)
Its original name is Dolligo. This beautiful name carries its own meanings and associations, and we hope everyone will join us in interpreting the meaning of Dolligo.
It is difficult to decide where to begin this journey: with the distant ages of the past or with more recent times.
The moment we mention the beautiful name Dalqo Al-Mahas, feelings, longings, and wonderful memories blossom within each of us—memories as beautiful as Dalqo, its people, all the Mahas, Nubia, and the noble, distinctive Sudanese person.
The value of Dalqo Al-Mahas, the grandeur of its location, and its place in all our hearts cannot be confined by any boundary. It is like moonlight on a bright night; we cannot pour that light into a bottle of perfume.
Writing about Dalqo Al-Mahas, as this article will show, means speaking of freedom in its highest meanings; beauty in its finest scenes and forms; the human being honoured in humanity, spirit, and character; the homeland in its true worth; the Nile in its journey and permanence; the riverbank fields in their greenery, beauty, and generosity; the tall palm; and life on the banks in its essence and meaning.
We were children when the teacher of teachers, Abdul Razak Ibrahim Al-Desouqi, delivered his expansive speech during the procession welcoming Jaafar Nimeiry, Hashim Al-Atta, Mohieddin Saber, and Muri Sidra, the minister of health. We could not grasp a speech of such strength and composure, written in classical Arabic so refined that even its great masters might struggle to understand it. When the teacher Abdul Razak quoted the expression ‘the wolf is innocent of Joseph’s blood’, I—as the child Siddig Nasr Saad—wondered what the story of Joseph, which our teacher had told us in class, had to do with Jaafar Nimeiry’s visit. This is how understanding opens with the passing of days and years. Later I needed that speech and searched for it, but I never obtained a copy; its family told me that Nimeiry had taken it in his hand at that very moment. I later learned how that rare speech was lost, especially after meeting the teacher Okasha Al-Jaali, who told me astonishing stories about Abdul Razak Ibrahim at Bakht Al-Rida Institute in Al-Duwaim.
Because my lines about Dalqo Al-Mahas will take us on a long journey, what I write is my own experience with people I met and with the accounts told to me by prominent figures who enriched life—not only in Dalqo, but across the wider homeland. This is my invitation to anyone able to compile a complete book about Dalqo Al-Mahas in all its detail, even as we acknowledge our shortcomings toward generous Dalqo. Still, it gives us joy and pride that Dalqo is, for all of us, our shared title; on our birth certificates we write:
Place of birth: Dalqo Al-Mahas.
To be continued >>>>.