As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow (105)
The events themselves, though, are all true. There really was a child who, before he died, said, “I will tell God everything.” These stories have happened, and more are unfolding as you read these words.
But, despite the atrocities my characters have to face, I hope you see them as more than their trauma. They represent every Syrian out there with hopes and dreams, and a life to live. We are owed that life.
This book was very difficult to write, but I tried to weave one message through every page, every line, and every letter.
That message is hope.
And I hope you carry it in your heart.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
READER, THERE’S A REASON AUTHORS WRITE acknowledgments, and it’s because a book is born from a thought and is raised by a family. And “ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten” (Lilo & Stitch, 2002).
Lemon Trees was just that. A thought. A need to shout from the mountains of an injustice befalling millions. Until she found a home with so many, encouraging her to grow from a whisper to a battle cry.
So, to Lemon Trees’ family, without you, readers wouldn’t be flipping through her pages.
First off, to Batool, my sister, my number one fan. Thank you for reading the entirety of Lemon Trees in the form of WhatsApp texts. For telling me to go for it. You believed in me even when I didn’t. I became an author because of you.
To my mama, Ola Mohaisen, my best friend and so precious in my heart. No one is more happy for me than you. It was a long journey that brought us to this point and we both learned so much.
When I first began writing this book, my life was moving in slow motion while everyone around me was having life happen to them at twice the speed. Because of this, Mama wanted me to put my writing on hold until I got my German language certificate, until I was safely accepted into graduate studies… etc. etc. But I didn’t listen. I know a lot of young authors out there sometimes find it scary to write. To try and make it a part of their life. I know I would have wanted to hear encouraging words when I first started. And because of that, I asked Mama to say something to all the parents out there who have their doubts.
“It’s probably easy to claim I took on a fully supportive parental role during the period of time Zoulfa decided to set on her avant-garde book-writing journey, but it would not be the truth that I feel obliged to share with all parents out there. It would be easy to assert unwavering trust, blind belief, and unconditional encouragement, but it would not be an accurate depiction of my response to her inclinations during a critical turning point for our family, standing at a crossroads in a new country. I tried to set her priorities for her, acted on the impulse of a mother′s first instinct and dismissed, at least temporarily, her languishing desire to write her story. But I was wrong, and I am glad she was right. It would be easy to not say anything at all, but I hope for these words to reassure at least one skeptical parent: plant a seed of trust, nurture it with humility and patience, and if you do so despite your doubts, you may be surprised with trees of lemon; their fragrance is unforgettable and ever so gratifying.”
To my baba, Yasser Katouh, who is the reason I speak English. Every word written in my books happened because of you. You believed 110 percent that I would make it. Not 100 percent. 110 percent.
To my brother, Moussab, who supplied me with many chocolate bars and muffins and never forgot to bring me a sheesh tawouk sandwich. You cool, kid.
To the White Helmets, who risk their lives to save others. For embodying the Qur’anic verse “save one life, and you would have saved all of mankind.” May God protect you for protecting us, may your hands never falter, and your souls never waver.
Alexandra Levick, I think if miracles were a person, they’d be you. Words can’t express my gratitude to you and for that moment you clicked the favorite button on my pitch. One click changed my life. Thank you for being my agent—for being my friend. Thank you for making my dreams come true.
To Writers House for truly being the best house a writer can ask for. Thank you for believing in me. For believing in Lemon Trees and giving her all your best. A special thank you to Alessandra Birch, Cecilia de la Campa, and Jessica Berger for all that you do for foreign rights. You guys are amazing!
To Ruqayyah Daud, who took a chance on my lemon babies. I still cannot believe that you read it in one night. You lit the spark that started this all. Thank you for not just being my editor but also my friend who I can yell with about BTS. I purple you!
To everyone in Little, Brown, you made a one girl’s dream become reality. To Patrick Hulse, Sasha Illingworth, and David Caplan in Design. To Jessica Mercado, Allison Broeils, and Nisha Panchal-Terhune in Marketing Design. To Shanese Mullins, Stefanie Hoffman, Savannah Kennelly, and Emilie Polster in Marketing. To Cheryl Lew, my superhero, rock star publicist. To Hannah Klein and Marisa Russel in Publicity. To Victoria Stapleton and Christie Michel working in School and Library. To Andy Ball, Annie McDonnell, and Caroline Clouse, my amazing copyeditor. To Virginia Lawther and Olivia Davis in Production. To Megan Tingley, Jackie Engel, Alvina Ling, and Tom Guerin in Publishing. To Shawn Foster and Danielle Canterella in Sales. I am eternally grateful to each one of you. Thank you for giving Lemon Trees a voice. I don’t feel so alone anymore.
To my wonderful editor Hannah Sandford and everyone in Bloomsbury, who put time and love into transforming this book from a Word document to a physical copy. Thank you is a small word to how I feel. Literally, you are the best Bloomsberries in the world! Real talk: Eleven-year-old Zoulfa is shaking in her gym shoes.