She does not know why, but Bambi often bumps into famous people on airplanes, in hotels, or in pastry shops.
Well on her way back home from the Middle East, through Europe, she bumped into Mr. Patrick Fiori. Indeed, with a heavy heart (grieving her mom), upon getting out of the aircraft washroom, she bumped into Mr. Fiori. He was waiting to visit the same place she was leaving.
Bambi was too happily surprised that she only managed to get one word out of her impressed mouth. She said “WOW” twice in a row. Mr. Fiori replied: “Je vous en prie” đ [it means: you are welcome]. Poor guy who must have thought he met the craziest deer on earth in the skies. Anyhow, despite her deep sorrow, seeing this much talented international Marseille-born singer made Bambi’s day (unless it was evening time in her jet-lagged brain?).
To end this brief post on a musical note, and if you wish, you may listen to Fiori singing in Corsican (his mother’s native language) and French. One of his French songs, which Bambi likes, is about Armenia (where his dad originally comes from).
A few months ago, this blog featured Ms. Zeina Farah’ musical talent. Of course, there will be another post on Zeina’s songs, both joyful and spiritual ones.
This being said, a BIG thanks to Zeina for the Byzantine chant prayers at the funeral of Robine, Bambi’s mother. May her memory be eternal.
Ms. Farah’s pure voice, in which she put her heart and soul, was surely heard in heaven. Indeed, what a beautiful tribute to Bambi’s mom. Thank you.
In conclusion, Bambi will leave you with a Greek Orthodox Arabic prayer entitled “Ayouha l moutaraddi“, which is performed by Zeina. Bravo to her!
Roula, Bambi’s eyes are filled with tears, reading your beautiful tribute to your mom. Thank you!
Published in L’Orient Le Jour on September 1st, 2023
Roula’s French article, shown above and published in the L’Orient Le Jour today, can be found here: https://shorturl.at/iqyX1. Below is a quick English translation, thanks to Mr. Google Translate, Bambi’s loyal friend:
“To Robine Fiani Azar, my mother
Writing to you, Iâve done it hundreds of times, Mom, but never publicly. As you take off, I speak to you one last time, just to see your name printed in black and white before the eyes of the whole world. You who lived your life discreetly in the shadow of us all, you deserve the light.
I’ve missed you for a while now, Mom, long before your sudden departure, when my sisters and I and all your grandchildren were out of the country.
I’ve missed you for a while now, Mom, ever since this country tried so hard to drain you of your energy, your serenity, your joy of living, gradually killing you on a daily basis without mercy. Tired, you were, exhausted. From the explosion of August 4, 2020, the collapse of the pound, the shortage of medicines, the heat that the generators’ electrical supply was no longer able to adequately combat…
I miss you already, mom. Nothing will be the same without you. Now I must learn to live in your absence, to reinvent myself without your gaze. I also have to imagine new ways of communicating with you, of telling you that I love you, of feeling your presence, of seeing myself with your eyes.
I miss you already, mom. Nothing will be the same without you.
