Portraits of Salma as I Knew Her (Asma Abi al-Lama's Address)

Who is there that does not know you, Salma — you who stood defending the rights of the daughters of your sex with indescribable ardor in the salons, on the platforms, and in your many writings? Your voice still rings in every gathering and in every institute. You are still alive in your abundant services to your nation and your language; alive to the women's associations, which remember you whenever devotion is mentioned; alive to your friends, who remember you whenever struggle is mentioned. How many thoughts you nourished, how many minds you brought to flower, how many understandings you broadened, and what lofty principles you planted in the hearts of the rising generation! If there is happiness in fruitful work, it is yours; and if there is merit in struggle, it is worthy of you.

I once visited the Dahr al-Bashiq sanatorium with Salma, to attend a celebration of the feast commemorating the birth of Christ the Lord. We entered the patients' rooms and saw a consumptive suffering from his disease, all hope of recovery cut off; and Salma set about comforting him with her sweet words, easing his pain and making him forget his affliction. No sooner had we finished this round than I saw her weeping bitterly. Then she said to me: Is there any misery worse than this misery? She remained shaken until we entered the kitchen, where she asked the cook what these dear ones were fed. He said: such-and-such, and boiled potatoes. She said: Give me two. She peeled them and said: Take, my dear — eat, and do not fear contagion; for the diseases of society are many, and they kill soul and body together.

Sleep secure in your tomb, my beloved. Upon your grave the lily and the jasmine have sprung up, and their fragrance perfumes the city of the dead, as your memory perfumes the city of the living.