RIYADH: In 2014, Lebanese millennial Mikey Muhanna was living in New York. Despite having a healthy social scene swirling around him, he yearned for a community in which he could connect with fellow Arabs in a way that made sense to him and his “nerdy” sensibility. His brainchild, Afikra — a platform for salon-style community gatherings — was born out of a personal quest to reconnect with his Arab roots.  

In doing so, he unknowingly embarked on a journey that would eventually lead him to become the steward of a unique global movement. 

As a former school teacher, Muhanna was inspired by the Pen League, a collective of active Arabs and Arab-American wordsmiths living in New York a century before. He, too, wanted to collaborate and collide with fellow Arab residents in the area who wanted to explore and reflect upon their heritage and their sense of belonging. He didn’t want to linger on stereotypes associating Arabs with violence and oppression; he wanted to exchange ideas about other Arab identities and histories, to be part of something that went deeper than a text book or social media.  

He started small with a humble gathering of like-minded people in Brooklyn, hosting Afikra nights first in his own apartment, and then in those of other members.  

Fast-forward to 2024, and Afikra (which roughly translates to “and by the way”) now has more than 200,000 members globally and has become a brand in its own right. When people see the Afikra logo, they know they can expect quality content that is invigorating, interesting and informative. Muhanna now has a trusted team of staff and volunteers that he relies on to get the message out and the work done. 

“We were this small community of 15 people. Now we’re hosting events at the Lincoln Center, which is crazy,” Muhanna tells Arab News. In the week beginning Sept. 24, Afikra was celebrating its 10th anniversary with a few famous friends on stage — including architect Rami Abou Khalil, Sudanese singer Alsarah, Lebanese-British journalist Zahra Hankir, and Moroccan-American author and political scientist Hisham Aidi — at locations across New York, including the aforementioned Lincoln Center. 

The success of Afikra lies not in its numbers, but in its spirit. It’s a place where curiosity reigns supreme, where the pursuit of knowledge is a shared experience and where members of the global Arab diaspora come together to explore and redefine the cultural landscape of the Arab world — especially during these turbulent times. 

Muhanna, who is now based in Lebanon, knows that Afikra has become a vital archival resource for the future. It provides a platform for people from the Arab region to be taken seriously within the wider world (with its Afikra Academy, the organization offers free lesson plans and material for teachers and students). It is a place where “hope” lives, Muhanna says. 

There is also an Afikra podcast; an array of book-club meetings, film screenings and workshops; and strategic partnerships with institutes including Qatar Museum, NYU Abu Dhabi, Jameel Arts Center and the British Council. Its members and organizers are constantly exploring new ways to amplify Arab stories and lessons. Nobody in the Afikra world is “stingy” with their knowledge, Muhanna says, everyone is there to make the space more informed than when they came in. 

Afikra doesn’t encourage passive consumption, instead, it invites participants to actively engage on some level — whether by asking questions or answering them, or both. Through its curated series of talks, interviews and workshops, Afikra provides a platform to delve into diverse topics ranging from classical Arab literature to modern art, from regional politics to architectural heritage. 

“We’re trying to get people to contribute... not just come and see and be seen,” Muhanna explains. “We want you to generously contribute.” That is the essence of Afikra — every voice matters, learning is reciprocal and the lines between teacher and student blur. 

“The last 10 years have been kind of this act of relocating myself with all these people,” he continues. “We’re all redefining the topography of the Arab world in our imaginations, but also in real life.”  

This idea is central to Afikra. It’s about creating a space where the rich, multifaceted history of the Arab world can be explored in its entirety—the good, the bad, the complex, and the confusing. By doing so, it is helping to shape a more nuanced understanding of the Arab world. At its core, Afikra is about intellectual curiosity.  

“We are essentially a collection of our interests,” Muhanna says. “We’re telling people you are allowed to engage in those interests.”  

The Afikra community is geographically diverse, but there’s a sense of shared purpose and responsibility that unites it. As Muhanna puts it, “You have inherited this region, and you’re trying to be a steward of this region and try to make it the best version of itself.” 

Over the past decade, Afikra has hosted more than 400 events, featuring scholars, artists and thought leaders from across the Arab world and its diaspora — from its signature “Conversations” series, in which experts are interviewed on subjects ranging from poetry to archaeology, to its “Salon” talks, in which community members present research on topics of personal interest. These events, many of which are available for free online, have attracted a wide and diverse audience.  

What’s particularly noteworthy is the extent to which Afikra has managed to remain inclusive and accessible. Unlike many academic or cultural institutions, Afikra doesn’t cater solely to experts or scholars or to the elite influencers. Instead, it welcomes everyone, from those deeply entrenched in Arab studies to those just beginning their journey of exploration. 

Afikra operates regular chapters in numerous cities, including New York, Beirut, Berlin, Marrakesh, London, and, of course, Riyadh.  

For Muhanna, the success of Afikra is not just about numbers or algorithms; it’s about the impact the platform has had on individuals and the community at large — and on him personally. 

“The responsibility is immense, for sure,” he says. “But the joy is immense, too.” 

JEDDAH: Syrian poet and writer Fadi Azzam’s novel “Huddud’s House,” poignantly translated by Ghada Alatrash, paints a kaleidoscope of Damascene life, from its artists and lovers to its doctors and politicians, during its recent period of great turmoil and destruction.
Beginning at the cusp of the Arab revolution and civil war in Syria, the novel is an epic that delves into the depths and dark pits of the human heart. It is a searing depiction of humans’ capacity to love in all forms, resist and grow, as well as their power to destroy, oppress, and wage war.
Among its central characters is Fadi or Fidel Al-Abdullah, a law student, artist, womanizer, famous filmmaker, or religious extremist — depending on which part of his story you’re reading. His character arc is a prominent thread in the novel’s theme of identity and exile, capturing the nature of identity as perpetually in flux.His married lover, Layl, a doctor, is a complex portrayal of a woman torn between desire and duty.
Anees, a heart surgeon in Britain, sees his life take a swift turn when a phone call beckons him to the homeland. In Damascus, he inherits his grandfather’s property, Huddud’s House, initially poised as a promising windfall.
But the ancient house itself, and the locals who care about its heritage and cultural significance, help the doctor uncover its treasures and secrets such as historical artifacts and documents about Syria and her people painstakingly penned by its former guardians.
In the story, Huddud’s House stands as a powerful symbol of Syrian resistance and perseverance against oppression: “This was the fortieth time that this house encountered destruction, but its history testifies that each time it returned greater than before,” reads an excerpt. 
“Huddud’s House” is an emotionally fraught and sweeping story of human connection during war, as well as a harrowing testimony partially based on true accounts of the brutalities endured by the Syrian people during the great upheaval of their homeland.
Azzam’s novel cements storytelling’s pivotal role in preserving truth, history, and heritage.
And at the heart of this particular story is a powerful idea: To love  is to resist.