The storyteller Jarallah Al-Hamid, may God have mercy on him, was not only a writer, but also a multi-reader, in politics, economics, and sociology, and whoever stands with him on the outskirts of Aja and Salma, and recalls (the sorrows of a wild herb), will discover the sociologist who monitors behaviors, analyzes them, and criticizes, And he interacts, as he recounts and is affected by his human sense against those who cause misery to any living being, and he flees to death in protest against the tragedies of humanity.
He says about his life, that it is a series of tragedies that began with the death of his father, and he recounts: “My father came one evening from his shop, in which he brokers fruits and vegetables. His toes and hands were swollen. Some of them come out with liquid, and I could not believe that evening was my father's last day in his shop and mosque. And with his friends in the summer of joyful nights. But things happened without consulting me. My brother and one of our relatives traveled with him to (Riyadh) they admitted him to the hospital, and it was only four days until he returned to us, he said to them: Leave me alone. Only God heals. And the disease is from God. I am a servant of God's servants. I want to die with my family.”
Al-Hamid loved writing, he lives to write, and he writes in order to live: he says: “Oh God, how great writing is, it was lost like a camel in the great desert of fatness. Until that stage, the state of boredom and futility, which our elusive mind refines into additional memory, will disappear, as is written on a box of a certain medicine (it is not spent without medical advice). The function of this memory has no immunity and must be eradicated by violence alone. The late man considered a group of entities geographically endemic to a body and historically in the manifestations of successive dark, prosperous, petrified, and poetic eras, so bless God Almighty, who made this man on his own. This body, then, has the right to retire as soon as it wants. Among these entities are centers and dens that store painful, shameful, or oppressive experiences, in short, let's call it the "disc of frustration."
Al-Hamid lived.. rich at the level of awareness, and he used to move around the alleys of Hail on foot.. and he said in a previous interview with “Okaz”: “I have unparalleled respect for poverty; Because my great father remained silent and lean, devoured by illness, prayed, devoured by the poisoned wound, and read the Qur’an. By the way, I am still confused about the phenomenon and implications of him reading the Holy Qur’an in letters like we read any printed matter, but he does not read a single letter other than the Qur’an!
On Friday, August 05, 2022, after Friday afternoon, the body of the silent writer, Jarallah Youssef Abdulaziz Al-Hamid, was buried in Hail from the Barzan Mosque in the old Hail region towards the Montazah Cemetery, in the presence of a number of writers and intellectuals.
Motabalawwd (Hail) @Motabalawwd