First and foremost, in my land-belonging, I am a daughter of Dilmun and the Nile—with paternal roots in North Africa and maternal ancestry in Bahrain, long believed to be the original Garden of Eden in the Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh.

I grew up “su-shi”—half Sunni, half Shia—and immersed in a rich tapestry of spiritual traditions. I sang in churches and Christmas concerts, studied the path of the Bodhisattva, and became a lifelong wisdom seeker, drawing from shamanism, mysticism, Kabbalah and other sacred schools.

I was raised by a powerful matriarchal lineage. My single mother was a pioneering banker and economist. Her sister—my second mother—became Bahrain’s first policewoman and retired as a colonel. My grandmother’s sister was Bahrain’s first female lawyer and a healer and medicine woman. My grandfather’s sister served as an ambassador to Belgium, NATO, and Denmark. Our extended family resembles a mini-United Nations, with over fifteen nationalities woven into our bloodline through marriage. Politics and activism run through my veins. My grandfather was a revolutionary exiled for fighting for Bahrain’s independence. When independence was finally won in 1971, he became the first Speaker of Parliament.

My earliest memories are of a deep companionship with nature. Climbing mango trees and picking grapes in my grandmother’s abundant garden of palms, pomegranates, bougainvillea, and fragrant blooms. Raising and caring for three generations of stray cats. The salty waters of the Arabian Gulf were my playground, a sacred space of wonder and connection—which made the 1991 Gulf War—oil spills blackening the sea, images of oil-drenched birds—especially devastating.

Still, even deeper than my love for nature was my passion for the arts: music, singing, dancing, acting, writing. In another life—or perhaps in this one—I would have followed the path of creative devotion. This is the essence of who I am; shaped by land and lineage, called to live in service of something greater, with stories still waiting to be sung.