This space is my offering. My archive. My resistance.

Every word, every page, every thought collected here is tethered to a woman who shaped the way I see the world—my late mama, Hanaa.

 

She wasn’t a writer, but she was my reason. She carried dignity through silence, power through compassion, and faith in a world that rarely gave her justice. She showed me life, and then taught me what it means to live for something greater than yourself.

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“Hanaashakeram” means Hanaa, I am grateful.

 

It is my whispered thank you. It is my promise that everything I create—every story, poem, analysis, or rebellion in ink—is done in her name.

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This site holds:

• Personal stories that speak of grief, girlhood, love, rage, and the quiet revolutions of everyday life.

• Poetry, sometimes sharp, sometimes soft — always honest.

• Geopolitical reflections that challenge dominant narratives and fight for the voices history tries to erase.

 

It is both memoir and megaphone.
It does not apologise for its truths.
It is not neutral. It is not corporate.
It is tender, it is angry, it is faithful—and it is hers.

 

Mama Hanaa, this is yours.
Shakeram.